


An Eye For An Eye

by reinadefuego



Category: Fast & Furious (Movies), Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Happy Murder Family, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Owen Shaw Being A Bastard, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Sexual Content, Team Bonding, undergoing editing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-29 07:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20078281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego
Summary: Every Shaw has a code. Elizabeth's is protection. It's why she's here looking after her older brothers and tolerating Dominic Toretto's continued existence, because debts need to be paid, criminals caught and karma doled out.There's just one problem: Luke Hobbs. He's standing in the way of her family's freedom, and if her regaining that means throwing her ethics out the window to help him catch Cipher, then so be it. Unfortunately it seems Elizabeth forgot to throw her heart out too.





	1. Chapter 1

_ **Moscow. Five years ago.** _

"Of course. We have ladies of all shapes available." She set the two look books down on the reception desk and politely smiled at the two white men in suits before turning to grab them a swipe card from a drawer behind her. Perhaps it was just well-honed instinct but something about these two Americans made her internal alarm bells ring. Aside from the fact they didn't speak a word of Russian, their pants bore wrinkles at the hip, as if something had been tucked under the waistband, and the collars of their shirts weren't folded properly. "Gentlemen, feel free to peruse while I confirm your room is available."

Chato returned the smile then picked up the two books and moved towards the row of couches against the wall. When the receptionist was far enough down the hallway to be out of earshot, he leant sideways and pretended to talk to Mac. "H, I think she's gonna run."

"Yeah, she's rabbiting," Hobbs responded. Sitting in a car parked in the side alley next to the brothel, he waited and listened to the live audio feed. Finally they were getting to see some action.

Fusco was already in the building, waiting inside one of the rooms. A fake Afrikaner accent — along with a wad of cash — had gotten him three hours with one of the ladies without question. She hadn't told them much but their suspicions were confirmed nonetheless: this place was a front for the Mob.

Luke stepped from his car and ditched his short black wig on the front seat before he began jogging down the alley. The private side entrance was meant for discreet dignitaries, but the staff certainly didn't seem to care. He'd seen six people already come through that door with cigarettes lit and sit on crates positioned either side of the steps. "Fusco, you get behind her. I'll get ahead to cut her off. Wilkes, maintain eyes!"

"She's heading for the stairs that go up to the second floor, Boss, you might wanna hurry." Sitting in an apartment opposite the brothel with only the neighbour's cat for company, Wilkes had little to do but stare at four large monitors. Displayed on them was live footage streaming from a set of infrared camera alongside the brothel's piggybacked internal security cameras.

Nobody could say his team with their near-perfect catch rate were anything other than precise and ruthless. Hobbs had turned chasing criminals into an art form, leaving other teams to wonder where they were going wrong. The truth of the matter was Fusco had once been an elite track and field star. So long as you could outrun the criminals and get in front of them, most of your problems were solved.

Luke pushed the side door open and rushed for the second stairwell. If they could grab her now, it would be as easy as dangling her like a lure and waiting for her brother to bite. Hobbs took the stairs two at a time, while Wilkes reported her movements in his ear as he raced to get ahead. "Mac, Chato, cover the front and back exits."

"Boss, you're almost directly above her," Wilkes said. "Wait, she just went into a room!"

"I don't know who the hell they are." Phone in her pocket and bluetooth earpiece secured, Elizabeth didn't hesitate in grabbing her backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. She got her arm through the second strap and walked back out into the corridor, rushing for the elevator at the end of it. "I just know they're the worst con artists I've ever seen."

_"Stop panicking, Elizabeth."_

"Remember who you're talking to, rooster," she spat. It was about time she got out of Russia. She was due for a holiday, a break from the mob. She'd been covering for Sarah, the real receptionist, whilst she was on sick leave.

On a regular work day, Elizabeth was in an office cooking the books and laundering money to clean it. And every so often, a couple grand in total disappeared from various accounts and wound up making its way to an offshore account in the Caymans. It was nothing that couldn't be explained by transaction and conversion fees. "We had an agreement. I burn my bridges, you keep the targets off my back."

But when the job called for it, she was in a warehouse manufacturing the bombs necessary for her brother to pull off his heists. As much as she loathed him, her attitude toward paid employment was nothing less than strictly professional. He sent her clean cash via her broker, she delivered what he needed to keep earning that cash; it was also specified he never learn of her involvement.

_"Now you really sound like your brother. How is he, by the way? I haven't—"_

She ripped the earpiece out and tossed it aside just as the elevator arrived at her floor. The doors didn't open immediately, so she pushed the button again. Nothing. _Damn it. Take the stairs._Elizabeth swore under her breath and began walking towards the stairs. Suddenly, the elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and heavy footsteps thudded against the carpeted floor.

"Don't make me chase you, Shaw!"

A man with an American accent, and going off the sound of his footsteps, he was _big_. The five seconds she could've wasted by looking over her shoulder were instead spent breaking into a run. Elizabeth grabbed the door jamb and swung herself into the stairwell, heart beginning to pound from the adrenaline that was quickly finding its way into her bloodstream with every second that passed.

He charged for the stairs and quickly gained back the distance he'd lost, getting within five feet of her while he gave chase. She knew the building's layout better than he did, but Hobbs' standard of fitness and weekends spent playing rugby for a small Pacific Islander team back home were paying off. "Fusco, she's coming towards you!"

Fusco threw the door open and lunged just as she passed, grabbing ahold of the backpack instead of her arm. He pulled down and she immediately got her hand under the right strap and pushed it off. One arm left to slide free, he drew his pistol and aimed it at her. "Don't move!"

"Elizabeth Shaw," Luke said, approaching from behind with his revolver drawn. "You're under arrest."

She leaned forward, left knee bent as if ready to drop, then kicked out with her right foot. The fake businessman she struck in the groin; at the same time she slipped her left arm free and ran for the nearest open door. "Sorry, ladies!"

Fusco tossed the backpack aside and ran shoulder first into the closing door. Slammed it against the wall with a loud crack. Luke barged past him and into the room, only to see another door open into an adjoining room.

"Nitchka?" one of the prostitutes yelled from their position on the bed.

"I promise I'll call you, Sofya!"

"Shaw, don't make this any harder than it has to be. Your brother's in some deep shit, you're both on terrorism charges, and you just assaulted a federal agent."

_Oh crap, they bricked it up._ Back pressed against the wall behind the other door, she slowly sank to the floor and reached for the switchblade in her pocket. There should've been a third door leading into an office that connected to a private corridor to allow travel between the brothel and the building next door. There wasn't.

Elizabeth flicked her knife open and clutched it, her breathing shallow so as to not be noticed. The only light came from the gap in the doorway, revealing an exceedingly tall man with brown skin dressed in body armour, and what looked like a tatau on his left arm.

"Assume she's got a knife, boss," Wilkes' voice came through clearly amidst the natural interference from the building itself. "She's on the floor three feet away."

The sound of the door slamming shut distracted her while Hobbs reached down and grabbed her right arm, twisting it behind her back. Switchblade still clutched in her hand, she was pulled to her feet and his grip on her wrist tightened. Elizabeth lifted one leg to push off the wall and received a knee to the tailbone for her troubles.

"Like I said." Hobbs detached his cuffs from his belt and secured one bracelet tightly around her right wrist. She refused to let the knife go, so he dislocated her thumb. The switchblade dropped to the floor and Luke kicked it away. A smug smile on his face said it all: one down, one to go. "You're under arrest on conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism, money laundering, falsification of documents, and being a pain in my ass."

_"If you're ever arrested, say nothing. You keep your mouth closed and call me, then wait for me to come. You may not like it, little wolf, but the world is cruel and untrustworthy. Men will try to use you and then kill you when your back is turned. Always be ready for that."_ Her father's words replayed in her head as she was tugged towards the door, her spine and arm screaming with pain each time she tried to turn around. The charges made no sense. Money laundering and forgery, sure, but terrorism? She was no terrorist. She couldn't even kill someone without it leaving a scar on her psyche.

"Next time, I won't be so gentle." Luke cuffed her other wrist behind her back then pushed her thumb back into place. He kept a firm grip on her shoulder and walked her out, unaware of the still active phone in her pocket.

"Boss, I don't like this. We've got sirens out here and they're getting louder," Wilkes said. "Someone got the cops' attention. We need to go. Now."

"Boys, let's go. Mac, get the car ready. Wilkes, pack it up."

"You know this is gonna piss off the Russians, right, H?" Chato said, an amused tone to his voice.

"Well," Luke said, guiding Shaw towards the elevator. She stepped in first without a word and he pushed the button for the ground floor. "It'll only piss the Russians off if they find out, and I can't imagine they feel particularly friendly towards Miss Shaw here anyway. A nice trip to Cuba should help her realise her options."

_He has nothing on you. There's no evidence. All you packed was a passport, clothes, and some cash. Rooster, I hope you're hearing this._ Elizabeth groaned and let her legs give out, sending herself into a sideways fall. The fed gripped her wrist at the last minute and stopped her from hitting the ground completely, leaving her to dangle just above the elevator floor.

"I don't feel too good," Elizabeth groaned. She lowered her head so her chin was touching her chest and continued to speak. "I need an apple, or something. My blood sugar—"

The phone in her pocket suddenly vibrated in two quick bursts then fell silent. Message received. The word 'apple' in any context was code for 'burn this bridge'. Cut ties and let her take the fall. The important part of her agreement with Cipher — Owen's employer — was that if worst came to worst, Elizabeth would be the one who shouldered the burden.

Eventually they'd pull strings and free her, Cipher said. Truthfully, prison wasn't so bad. She'd already spent three years of her life in a cell for killing someone. It was only to appease the prosecution's lawyer, as well as the family of the 'victim.' Both still believed her to be in prison to this day; but in comparison to that, this would be a cakewalk.

"You can eat in the car." The elevator opened onto the ground floor and Luke lifted her to her feet. "I'm not carrying you, Shaw."

Elizabeth staggered out, turning when he made it clear she was to go left. The alley exit was open and a large sleek black limousine awaited them with its door open.

"Get in." Hobbs dug his fingers into a gap in her collarbone and increased the pressure till she jerked forward. She stepped in and slid across the seat and Hobbs did the same seconds after. The door was shut behind them and Fusco positioned himself by the driver's window. A granola bar was promptly shoved into Elizabeth's hands.

"Give me a minute and I'll be out front."

"Copy that, Wilkes. Mac, circle the block," Luke said as Fusco tossed him his wig. He slid it on and adjusted it, ignoring a snort of derision from Shaw.

"You look like a rooster," Elizabeth muttered in Russian. She grunted when the wig-tosser clipped her seatbelt into place, leaving her hands to rest against her stomach. Wig-tosser pulled the phone from her pocket and handed it to Luke. The faint smell of burnt circuitry permeated the air as he unfolded the flip phone and held it out.

"You always carry around a broken phone?" Luke queried, eyeing the burnt screen. Scorch marks ringed the screen and the buttons were partly melted. How she'd had that in her pocket without feeling the heat was beyond him.

She shrugged. That explained the sudden heat against her leg while she'd been on the floor of the elevator, and the burning pain. The woman who'd somehow gotten Owen to expose just how corrupt he truly was must've overclocked the phone to destroy it. Ironically, Elizabeth had never concerned herself with the woman's true intentions till now. "It's my lucky charm, if you have to know."

Chato scoffed. "Lucky charms don't work. Been eating them my whole life and nothing's happened."

"Your lucky break was getting on the team," Luke said, watching as two police cars and an ambulance fought through traffic to get down the street and continue past the brothel. "Let's go. Call the plane, tell 'em we're diverting to Cuba before we go home."

"Nice suit, Dub," Mac called from the front seat as they pulled around the front of the apartment building. Wilkes quickly walked down the front steps dragging a suitcase then climbed into the back of the limousine with Luke and the others, leaving Mac to get out and heft the large case into the trunk.

"Any flags on Toretto?" Luke queried.

Wilkes shook his head. "Not yet."

"Alright. He's gotta stick his head out from under that rock sometime. Keep talking to border patrol."

"I'm not going to Cuba," Elizabeth spoke up once the limo began moving again. She leaned forward and glared at Hobbs. "I've done nothing wrong. I am not going to Gitmo, or any damn prison. You want to drop me down a hole, you better make sure I can't crawl out of it else I'll be coming for you."

"Oh don't you worry about that, Princess. The hole I'm dropping you down, even Sadako couldn't crawl outta it." Luke gestured to Fusco who promptly slid a box out from under his seat. He reached down and opened it then tossed a small evidence bag onto Shaw's lap. "Recognise it? We found your print on the hinge. Oh yeah, we know all about your family. Your brother used that bomb to kill a foreign diplomat."

"You're a terrible liar, Agent—"

"Hobbs. So tell me, how do you go from killing in self-defense to making bombs for terrorists?"

"Owen's not a terrorist, he's a soldier and a car thief! He doesn't kill diplomats."

The look in her eyes belied her dismissive tone. It told him she was beginning to doubt herself, her brother; possibly everything. Luke pulled a file from the box and opened it. On the right page were photos of car wrecks and bodies trapped within them. On the left, a photo of Owen Shaw at a distance, armed with a pistol and dressed head to toe in black. At his feet, a man knelt as though begging for his life.

"That's got nothing to do with me. You wanna lock anyone away, lock him up."

"Your bombs make you an accessory." Hobbs raised his voice and turned the page. More wreckages, more bodies. Men in military uniforms dead. Maybe this would get her talking. "He doesn't care who dies, only that he gets what he wants. Tell me how to find him and I'll stop him. Your brother went rogue. Their blood is on your hands!"

"I don't know where he is! We haven't talked face to face in years."

"Then who's your intermediary?"

"Boss, Toretto's face just pinged a camera in Brazil," Wilkes said, holding up his phone. "We've got him."

Elizabeth sank into the leather car seat and stared at her cuffs, focusing on them to tune out Hobbs' voice. She couldn't trust him, Owen, or that bitch on the other end of the phone.

In the beginning, she and Deckard had both told Owen not to do it. Said regardless of the payout it wasn't worth handing over a built Nightshade device. Not if it could lead to so much death and destruction.

After several days of having Deckard on her side, Owen disappeared. _He made his choices. So did you, but you didn't kill those men. That blood is on him._ And by causing enough trouble to attract his employer's attention, she'd been given a chance to make a deal of her own. There was one condition: when it was over, she walked away and took Owen with her. "Why don't you ask my brother?"

To hell with niceties. Luke grabbed the chain of her cuffs and hauled her forward. "Tell me who you're working for, Shaw, or you can say goodbye to your life. All it takes is one photo and the Russians will send a death squad to hunt you down within hours."

"Goodbye, life," she said, staring at the window behind him. "You can threaten me or kiss my arse for as long as you think it'll work, Agent Hobbs, but nothing will get me to flip on my brother. I don't betray my family."

Luke pushed her back against the seat and released his grip on her cuffs. "Enjoy Cuba, I hear the weather's miserable."


	2. Chapter 2

_ **Los Angeles. Present day.** _

"Say 'hi, Papa'," Elena said, waving Marcus' hand gently. She'd sat him on her hip till he finally stopped fussing and decided he liked the view. With Dom back from a trip to Greece, she'd taken it upon herself to give him every chance to spend quality time with his son. So far, Marcus was loving it.

Already just weeks short of properly walking without assistance, Marcus was getting into all kinds of mischief. He'd climbed his way into a kitchen cupboard without Mia noticing and closed it on himself, leaving them in a panic till Brian pointed out the pant leg hanging beneath the door.

Dom's chest swelled at the sight of him. Though it'd been less than two days since they last saw each other, Dom swore he'd grown half an inch and gained three pounds. Parading his son around on his shoulders would have to wait till later once Brian and Mia arrived with Jack and Sophie. "Hey, Marcus, you wanna come watch Daddy and Letty fix his car?"

"Papa!" Marcus stretched his arms out, straining as if to jump between their arms. Elena lifted him forward and Dom swept him up, allowing Marcus to start tugging on Dom's silver crucifix necklace. "Papa, car!"

There was no way to ever truly make up for lost time, but seeing Dom like this eased her fears; and seeing Letty with Marcus was even more reassuring. Elena slid a blue bag off her shoulder and handed it to Dom as well. "Hobbs has taken another trip down south, and I've got to cover his shift. Can you look after him for the weekend?"

"Elena, he's our _son_. I didn't let either of you die on that plane and I won't let any harm come to the both of you now." Dom squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and smiled, even as Marcus decided to start poking him in the side of the neck. Seeing her in Cipher's photo, her clutching Marcus while Rhodes stood to the side with a gun to her head, had angered him at first. It wasn't just the threat to her life, or the threat to the baby; nor was it Cipher's gall to walk up to him and blackmail him into betraying his family. Elena had fallen pregnant and never told him, but after the first few days of playing the events of the past few years over in his head and wondering how all of this happened, he calmed down. Letty had returned to his life so suddenly, ending the hollow pain he'd been feeling, and Elena had walked away without so much as hearing a thank you from him.

A thank you for being there, for being the first person in a long time to completely understand his pain; for giving him someone to talk to who shared the unfortunate experience of losing the most important person in their world; and for not trying to force him into being someone he wasn't. Her words still echoed in his mind sometimes, and God help him, Dom wished he could've returned the favour. _If that was my husband,_ Elena had said that morning, staring at the photo of Letty, _if there was a chance._

"I packed plenty of diapers, formula," Elena said, gesturing to the bag, "he's been getting diaper rash lately, so his legs might still be sore."

He nodded and switched Marcus to his left arm then stepped forward and hugged her. "Promise me you won't go jumping out of any buildings today. Hey, Letty, guess who's helping build the car!"

Elena waved as Letty walked out of the garage. Things had begun as awkward between them when Letty first watched her and Marcus with Dom, till they talked it out. She'd been officially dead for months and Dom was alone, still grappling with how to survive now that his heart's burning flame was extinguished. It didn't take an idiot to see Dom was better for the experiences, regardless of how strange Letty felt being around Dom when Elena and Marcus were also.

"How's he been at night?" Letty said, grabbing a tyre off the stack. Hair tied back in a bun and gloves still on, she looked every part the badass mechanic momma she'd begun to feel like. With Brian and Mia running the cafe, their life was stabilising once more. "Last week he wouldn't settle at night."

"He's started teething again, so he's grumpy come the afternoons." Elena waved to Marcus and said her goodbyes before heading for her car parked out front. She'd left a note in the bag for Dom, telling him exactly where Hobbs had gone in case things went south. Everybody at the DSS loved to act as if he could cover his own ass without issue on hunts, but she knew better than most. Losing his team in Brazil had left Luke vulnerable, and Hicks' following betrayal had only buried a protective instinct to mistrust further inside him. Whatever happened, Elena hoped Dom would have his back when the storm began again.

* * *

"And I'm telling you, you can't sell woof tickets to people with experience, kid," Luke said. He closed his eyes and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, trying to rid himself of the sticky feeling. A dark stain had already formed along the front of his tank and over his ribs. The humidity he could deal with, being stuck in a car with Eric on the other hand was starting to try his patience. "You don't walk up to someone in a prison and play ball like that, or have you forgotten the last time you tried that tactic?"

He hadn't forgotten being planked against a brick wall, he merely chose not to bring it up. Hobbs had six inches and about ninety pounds on him — it was somewhat unfair to compare that mildly traumatising experience to this venture. Little Nobody crossed his arms and stared out the front windshield as they followed the highway down towards the western landing point. The ferry would be waiting for them at the docks, and from there they'd make their way across the bay. "My bargaining chip is going to work, Hobbs. Give me twenty minutes and we'll be on our way."

"This is gonna be embarrassing. Fine, twenty minutes, then I go in."

"One question," Mr. Nobody spoke up from the front passenger seat. "Did you call to confirm your target is still down there, Eric?"

Luke said nothing. He'd made a call weeks ago and learnt of a lawyer's intervention two and a half years ago. According to Ramsey, the target now lived somewhere in Santa Clara.

"It's Gitmo, the most secure prison in the world," Little Nobody said, gesturing to the distant bay. _At least I think it is. God, I screwed up bad._ "You can't escape from there, it's an island surrounded by water."

"So was Alcatraz, but you can walk out of there if you have connections and a lawyer." Luke stretched his arms out and smiled to himself. If 'Little Nobody' didn't start thinking ahead, that fresh baby shit smell was going to linger for a while. "Might wanna call for a plane, Junior, or would you prefer a three hundred and forty mile drive?"

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Oh don't get your panties in a knot," Mr. Nobody said, glancing over his shoulder. The look on Eric's face said he wasn't impressed, and the smirk on Luke's said their wake-up call had worked like a charm. It'd been nothing shot of a miracle Eric realised there were no rules come New York. "I told you we wouldn't be taking our time. A plane will be ready and waiting once we cross the bay. We'll be landing at a private airfield in Santa Clara; you'll have your chance then, kid."

He sat up and focused on the folder wedged between the gearstick and Mr. Nobody's seat. It'd been sitting there the entire trip, staring him in the face. Knowing what his boss's attitude was towards privacy, Eric had left it alone. Now he wondered if that was the file on their target, or simply another red herring. "Santa Clara? The target stayed in Cuba?"

Hobbs shook his head in disbelief. Why had Nobody entertained this kid for so long? He was clearly out of his depth yet insisted he had a single clue as to how life played out. His stupidity had nearly gotten them killed last time. Rushing headfirst into a fight with Toretto, Luke had almost smacked him upside the head afterwards for screwing up and opening that exit. "Do you even know who we came here to pick up?"

"Mr. Nobody said get in the car, I got in the car. He said bring your best sales pitch, I brought it. Who's the target?"

"The usual criminal type." Luke snatched up the file and dumped it in Eric's lap. Having to work with goddamn newbies after all these years made him wish he'd just taken Toretto down that day in Brazil, wrench or no wrench, and gotten out with his own team alive. If Fusco, Wilkes, Mac, and Chato, had been here, he would've already had his target in cuffs again and been having tea and crumpets in celebration.

Reisner didn't talk to him for the rest of the trip, allowing Luke a comfortable silence. He watched Eric's face transition from curiosity to concern then outright unease and worry as he read the file in the car. Each time he flicked back to the first page, Luke heard him mutter something that sounded like 'this wasn't in his file.'

No, it wasn't. He'd dug through all those files looking for Owen Shaw the first time, only coming across a small note from the late eighties by chance. It'd been shoved in with a pile of loose papers down the bottom, easy to miss if you weren't willing to individually read each sheet. After checking the holes, Luke found the police report it belonged to.

Filed only as a complaint with no charges laid, it detailed how Nikolai Dmitrovich — the owner of a corner shop near the Shaw family's council estate home — had suffered a spate of small thefts. Mostly just food off the shelf, a camera; nothing worth much, till the thieves decided to up their game. The last straw for Dmitrovich was the cash register itself at midnight, albeit with an empty tray.

The note itself read: _DI Hedgeway translated for the sister after she claimed she didn't speak English. Owen denied they're related and called her the whore's child. She says he's been getting involved with the St. Thomas gang._

"How'd we miss this?" Eric said, stepping from the car with his nose still in the file. He glanced up to align himself with Nobody's footsteps and kept walking in the direction of the plane that awaited them. "I did my research: Deckard Shaw's military file lists a deceased father, unknown mother, and a brother. Owen's reflects that."

"Read it again, you'll find your answer." Luke took the flight stairs two at a time and proceeded to quickly find a seat by the window. He'd dropped her off that day without a word, leaving it to Chato to walk her into the facility. How the lawyer had figured out where she was was anyone's guess, but sure enough one of Chato's buddies said a woman turned up one day, made a phone call while standing in the entrance foyer, and Shaw was released within half an hour.

"I've read it twice, Hobbs."

"She's not on government documents because she wasn't born in the UK, kid," Mr. Nobody said, ending Hobbs' guessing game. For all Eric's improvements over the past few months, he still had a few things to learn that'd only come with experience and time. "God's Eye and Toretto are the best chance we have of taking the Shaws and Cipher down."

Luke feigned disinterest as Mr. Nobody went into the details of the planned op. Deckard had chosen to go completely underground, along with Owen. A deal had been struck and so far it was being kept to, aside from their monitoring of the Shaws. Luke couldn't help but feel that screwing Deckard over now would only go against them if his services were required for Cipher's removal from the planet. The longer it took to find her, the more certain he became that Deckard _would_ be that necessary of evils.

* * *

"Everything alright, love?"

She glanced over her shoulder then went back to focusing on beating the egg whites. Her right bicep and shoulder ached from the constant circular motion but Elizabeth persisted, choosing to vent through food rather than punch a wall. No, everything wasn't alright; hadn't the old woman noticed the growing pile of baked goods taking over her dining table? There were plates of blini, chak-chak, warm granola bars, bowls of dips, among other things, and now she was in the midst of finishing the zapekanka batter before the cake went in the oven.

"I can still feel my fucking stomach dropping."

One minute she was in South America sleeping with a book on her face, the next there were men in suits hauling her out of bed and throwing her bags at her. She was scheduled to fly to England, they said, at the behest of one Magdalene Shaw. She hadn't heard that name in over seventeen years. Not the type to reject such a . . . well phrased invitation for tea, Elizabeth went with them. The plane ride itself could be summed up as one thing: a hellish nightmare.

"Have a blini," Magdalene said, picking one up and dipping it in a chives and sour cream mix. She'd offered to break out her own biceps, or an electric beater, but Elizabeth refused and said her whisking ability was great. Her folding technique, Magdalene noted to much inner amusement, needed improving. "Your mum teach you to cook?"

"No, a nice old lady named Marya. Mum —" she tipped the batter into the greased and crumb-lined pan, evened it out, and shoved it in the oven "— Mum died the week Dad flew me here. He never told you?"

"I didn't want to know," Magdalene said. She'd called her sons twice, telling them to get their arses over there and be quick about it. The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could get down to business. "Would've killed him that night if he hadn't said you was only six. It's what I got for thinking he'd be capable of keeping his pants on after the first time."

"You wanna tell me why I'm here? I never had nothing to do with you or them after I moved back home. Didn't want to." Till Deckard called out of the blue and told her about Cipher, convinced her to try and be a 'good sister' and protect Owen; because that always turned out really well. "Still don't."

"They're your brothers, Lizzy, you ain't got much of a choice, and this family takes care of its own."

She snorted and muttered 'course they do', earning a whack to the shoulder with a solid wooden spoon. Elizabeth ignored the momentary pain, along with the kiss on the cheek that followed. What, did she just expect them to see each other and play happy family? Smile and pose for the Christmas photo that'd wind up on the mantle place.

Magdalene patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and said, "I'm glad you're here, sweetheart. Makes it feel like we're all living together again."

_Your goons put a gun to my face and forced me out of my home_, she thought, stacking the dirty bowls in the sink and washing her hands before she walked out to the living room. _Ain't got much of a choice is right._

The doorbell rang a few minutes later but she ignored it, opting to sit on the couch cross-legged and rest her head on the arm of it. She could still feel the nausea creeping up on her, the stomach acid stinging her throat serving as a reminder there was a completely valid reason her feet usually remained on the ground. "Mags, who is it?"

"Just me." He walked into the living room and dropped down on the couch next to her. Hair cut short back and sides as was military standard, he looked every bit the soldier she imagined he'd once been. His eyes betrayed nothing, not even the surprise he felt at seeing his sister. "It's nice to see you, I guess."

"Sod off, Owen."

"You on your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, she punched him in the arm and got to her feet. "Act your age, not your shoe size. Where's Deckard?"

"He's on his way."

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief and immediately retreated to the kitchen. Deckard would be in his old role of peace keeper for as long as it took _their_ mother to cut to the chase and stop messing about. Whatever the true reason for their gathering, it'd be down to her eldest brother once more to stop them from killing each other. As nice as it probably was for Magdalene, she had no interest in being part of some bullshit happy family illusion.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mia," Marcus shrieked, clapping his hands and wriggling to break free of Dom's arms as she and Brian walked up the driveway. He waved his arms and shouted Jack and Sophie's names, stumbling towards them once he was finally let down. Marcus pointed towards the garage and grinned. "Car!"

"Sophie, be nice to Marcus," Mia said, recognising the look of mischief on her daughter's face. It'd been Marcus who'd climbed into the pantry that day, but Sophie was the ringleader who told him to do it. "No biting."

"She's biting again?" Dom said warily, watching as the three kids walked towards the garage where Letty would be stretched out on a creeper, working on the rear axle. Baby bag on his shoulder, he was yet to go through everything and see whether Elena had packed Marcus's blue American muscle outfit. There was also the matter of the small Union Jack boxing gloves Deckard had bought him, and his surprising attachment to them.

"It happened once," Brian explained, sitting down on the back step that led to the kitchen. Dom wasn't getting much sleep lately, according to Letty, and she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it but he was also having the occasional nightmare. Whatever had happened up on that plane left a scar on Dom's psyche. "Momma's just being cautious. Hey Dom, you wanna show me the new paint job?"

"It's upstairs." Dom could've sworn he'd already sent Brian a photo after its completion, but photos could never live up to the real thing. "Mia, tell Letty —"

Mia smiled and gestured for them to go inside. "Marcus will be fine, Dom."

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Every time he saw Marcus and Elena, he wondered how long it would be before they were ripped out of his life and trapped in a glass box again. Dom wiped the sweat from his forehead and led Brian upstairs to the small room he and Letty had converted into Marcus's bedroom and play area. On the wall next to his cot was a painting of Race Wars: flags, cars, cheering girls, smoking tyres, the whole quarter mile.

"You did a great job, man," Brian said, amazed by the detail. His fingers grazed over the Dodge in all its beauty, and what looked like a miniature Dom in the driver's seat. "Whose idea was it?"

"Letty did most of it. I only took care of the undercoat and waterproofing, and Letty's actually. I was thinking one big car so when he sits up in bed, he looks like he's driving, but she thought Race Wars would be better."

Brian nodded and stepped back, chuckling when he saw a pair of toddler-size boxing gloves hanging over the cot. If Dom had told him two years ago that he'd find himself being amicable with the bastard who'd killed Han and blown the Toretto home up, Brian probably would've tried to knock some sense into him. No one had seen Shaw since that barbeque, leaving him glad the situation was seemingly resolved. It also meant there'd be no clash over Dom's not killing him when he had the chance.

Dom covered his yawn and blinked away the physical and mental exhaustion he felt, opting to sit on a large chair he'd bought for when Marcus got fussy and refused to sleep. "How was the DR?"

"It's nice. Not as nice as here, but Jack likes the beach so we got him swimming lessons. You should really get some sleep, Dom, you look like you're about to pass out."

He nodded, sitting the bag on his lap and unzipping it so as to start sorting through Marcus's stuff. A strong cup of coffee would have to wait till they were downstairs. Stretching out on the couch and letting his sore legs relax would've been nice too if not for his son's presence. "I've been working on the car a lot, trying to fix it up so we can install a baby seat in the back and take Marcus down to Race Wars. Hector says it's not the same without us, and he wants to meet Marcus. Everyone does."

"Is that all?"

Seeing the look of concern on Brian's face, Dom sighed and shook his head. Talking about his feelings had never been his strong suit. He wasn't interested in therapy or counselling, only in continuing his life, focusing on the future, while simultaneously accepting the past and putting it all behind him. "I keep dreaming about it. About Elena, and Cipher. She nearly — they nearly died because of me. Gisele and Han both died because I needed their help . . . and my son would've died just so Cipher could spite me. How do I live with that, Brian?"

Brian clenched his fists and kept them by his sides, focusing on verbally knocking some sense into Dom rather than physically. The look on his face was one of raw anger, jaw set and teeth grit. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and an ache was beginning to form in his chest at the mere idea that Dom could blame himself for what'd happened. "Dom, none of that is your fault! Their deaths aren't on you. Gisele? She died because Hobbs couldn't do his job properly. Han was _murdered_ so that piece of shit could send a message, and he nearly killed all of us too, you included. None of this will ever be your fault."

"I dreamt she killed Marcus last night," Dom admitted. It was a horrible dream that never seemed to quite go away. Its unwanted return in his mind had left him waking up with a foul taste in his mouth and shaky hands. Luckily, Letty slept through them all. He'd dreamt it three times now, and being able to recall specific details only made him hurt that much more. "Cipher said if I killed her, her men would storm the room and kill Marcus. I dream I never have enough bullets to stop them all."

"But you did, Dom, you stopped Rhodes."

* * *

They finally landed in Santa Clara after two hours. From there, it was just a matter of driving till they reached Santa Catalina ward and an old sandstone building. Perhaps it was just luck, but the manager of the building intercepted Luke before he could get either a word in edgewise or a foot into the apartment itself, asking for a key deposit and four weeks in advance if they wanted to move in. Eventually, he got the conversation to turn, allowing Little Nobody to step up to the plate.

"Men in suits," Eric said in English so Hobbs and Nobody could follow along, nodding as the manager continued in Spanish what sounded like a story he'd just made up on the spot. "And you saw them take her out? Can you describe her?"

Hobbs handed over a fifty dollar bill to loosen the guy's lips without hesitation. The woman was average height, dark brown hair, white and didn't tan very well; she'd been living there two years paying rent every two weeks, fixing radios and lamps for spare change. The men themselves — of which there were six — sounded British, and had called her by a name the manager didn't recognise: Shaw.

"What the hell does this mean?" Eric said, after paying the manager to let them inside the apartment. It was small, with a sofa bed shoved against one wall and a kitchen window that looked out onto the street. From the sink, he could see their car parked below. A single chair and table sat in the centre of the room, with a small toolbox beneath it. "You think Cipher found her first?"

"Could be her brothers decided to come collect her," Mr. Nobody said, opening cupboard doors to find a bag of unlabeled grains along with four tins with the labels torn off. He felt blindly along the inside wall of the cupboard and the top, till he touched something plastic and began working it free of the tape holding it against the wall. "Found one of her stashes."

_Loose floorboard,_ Luke realised as one creaked under his weight while he walked towards the bathroom. He pushed down slightly with his toes and the opposite end of it lifted, allowing him to get his fingers in the gap and remove the timber. _Manager says it's her, but why do I feel like this is a setup? You don't get out of prison then stay in the country unless you're stupid . . . or you've been meeting someone. That private airfield's only two hour's drive away._

Luke tossed his phone to Little Nobody before reaching down into the gap beneath the floorboards. "Call Ramsey, tell her to pull up any and all security cameras in the country and filter for Cipher's face."

"You think the target's working with Cipher?" Eric queried. If they were, this was going to be one awkward Jerry Springer-esque reunion once they brought them all in.

"_Someone_ had to pull strings to free her. Tell Ramsey to track the Shaw brothers too, I don't want them sneezing without us knowing if they wipe it on their sleeve."

Luke reached further along before his fingers brushed the handle of a lockbox. Finally something solid. It didn't feel too heavy, he noted, and caught it with one finger to drag it forward, allowing him to get a better grip and lift it out. Sweat gathered on the tip of his nose then dripped down onto his bottom lip while his heart began to pound in anticipation. With no padlock securing it, he cracked the box open and lifted a blanket off the top. Thank God. Hobbs let out a sigh of relief when he found only a pile of tools, three bundles of cash, and no bombs in sight.

"You could also send in a tactical squad before they have a chance to run. They have skills we could use, Luke. If Elizabeth is in contact with Cipher, it's simply a matter of pushing her till she breaks."

"That only works if you grab all three at once." Owen Shaw was two steps short of being a full-blown psychopath, not to mention the complete opposite of someone he'd ever want to work with. Deckard's Victoria Cross recommendation showed him to at least possess a streak of decency and courage, and yet to no one's surprise it didn't erase the recent past. "Shaw has to be in contact with her. There's no way she'd get this kind of money without help."

"It'll only take a phone call," Mr. Nobody said, reaching into his pocket for his cell. "We need a better lead than some possible sightings."

"You never did fix that mirror," Eric said, a smug look on his face. "I think you owe it to Shaw to at least help him repair that car."

They had a point about better leads. The car, not so much. Hobbs would never regret pushing that sumbitch's buttons. Nor was it as simple as pushing her till she broke. He'd tried that already. "Make the call, but Owen gets put in a cell immediately. He's not to be anywhere near the other two, and after it's done, they land in the cells next to him."

* * *

_Cipher corrupted him and left him for dead. So, if I get a shot to take her down, believe me, Flex, I'm taking it._ They were words Deckard was going to live by if he had his chance, and God help him, he'd be the one to do it. As he pulled into the driveway, he ignored his buzzing phone on the dash and the word 'Mum' displayed on the screen. Bloody hell, how many times was she going to call? It'd taken him two hours just to drive down from his apartment up north, and another forty minutes just to navigate traffic and get to her house.

"Next time you don't pick up that phone, we'll be having words, Deckard Nicholas," Magdalene said, walking up to his car. To no surprise, it was an old camo-green Defender. He'd bought it for two thousand pounds in the mid nineties and proceeded to restore it to its former glory. "I see you're still driving this thing around."

"It's reliable." He parked it and stepped out, tugging his jacket down to conceal the pistol strapped to the small of his back. With the sky dark and half the street lights out, odds were no one would see it. Still, it wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Most situations never called for it, but subconsciously he was relieved to be armed. Sometimes a bullet could make all the difference. Deckard smiled and moved to hug her, feigning ignorance of the curtains shifting in the window and the shadow cast against them. Of course they were being watched. "It's good to see you, Mum," he said finally. "Is Owen here yet?."

"He's inside." She hadn't told him about the third member of their little search party. No, that — that would be a surprise. It'd been hard enough tracking their sister down, relying only on interpersonal connections and phone calls, but once the net closed around her the task was reduced to a simple snatch and grab. "Just watch out, he's in one of his moods."

Deckard huffed. Owen was always in one of his moods. If he wasn't pissed about the Toretto deal, he was getting in their faces about not killing him and cleaning up the mess. What could he say? Hearing the effect his so-called death had on Hobbs, well that changed a few things. He'd never imagined Hobbs would punch a steel door, nor that he'd dent it. Getting Deckard to admit he liked the man would take a miracle in and of itself; respecting Luke, on the other hand, was a given.

Inside, Owen frowned, one hand braced against the wall and the other parting the curtains while he watched for any other arrivals. Why him? As much as they fought, he'd hoped it would just be them. Deckard was always the third wheel in these situations and it showed. He looked over his shoulder, checking she hadn't bolted while no one was looking. Owen wouldn't blame her if she had. Their mother _was_ quite a handful. "Deck's here."

Elizabeth glanced up then went back to staring at the rug beneath her feet. This entire farce was turning out to be more awkward than expected. First Owen, now Deckard, and their mother — what was she even doing here? Family reunions didn't usually involve this much tension, or so she'd been led to believe. "What happened to your face?"

Mum hadn't told her already? He sighed and said, "I was thrown from a crashing plane and hit by burning fuselage. I ended up in a coma."

She'd hoped it was a lie, that Cipher had just been trying to make her feel better about her so-called stupid choices, but that was his cold hard truth tone of voice, and the way he clenched his jaw said it all. For all her attempts at covering his arse, he'd nearly lost his life. Elizabeth cringed and tried to suppress the sudden feeling of heaviness forming in her chest. She knew it was plenty capable of pushing her into a guilt-ridden tunnel, but that relied on her feeling guilt in the first place.

"What about you?" he said, moving away from the window. She was wringing her shirt in her hands, the steaming mug on the coffee table in front of her untouched. Owen lifted it and gestured. She responded with a shrug and he took a sip, savouring the taste of freshly pressed coffee. This was the real stuff, not that cheap swill people drank. "Last I remember you lived in Moscow."

"I got swept up in problems that weren't mine and sent to prison again." She didn't want to play the blame game, nor dump all her issues in his lap. It was partially his fault for getting involved with Cipher in the first place, and the rest lay with her for caring enough to get involved in things that didn't directly affect her. "Eventually strings were pulled and I was released, but I'm never getting those eighteen months back."

"Why?" Deckard said, walking into the living room and taking a seat. Jacket folded over his arm, his black AC/DC tank exposed a small mass of scar tissue on his sternum. The look on her face was one of irritation, but Owen's repeated clenching and unclenching of his fists didn't bode well. "Why'd you have to go and stick your nose in? I thought we taught you better."

"Does it matter?" Owen snapped, glaring daggers at Deckard. Of course he'd take the high road. Their brother would never admit to being wrong, or that he didn't know everything. Deckard was the one who'd joined the ranks of the elite within the SAS, and his ego grew alongside the chevrons on his shoulder. "Not everything's a life lesson."

"Because you asked me to." Elizabeth stood and took a step towards Deckard, ignoring the way he sat forward. Whether he was armed or not, it'd make no difference. She'd still try to tear him a new one, and he'd hiptoss her into the floor. "Or don't you remember making Owen's business mine? You're the one who approached me to help you convince him to walk away."

"Huh. That's not the way I remember it," Deckard said, feigning confusion. He noticed the look on Magdalene's face and scowled. Why couldn't Beth just shut her mouth? Sibling business had nothing to do with their mother. "You sure all that time in prison hasn't messed with your head?"

"You want to gaslight me?" she said, taking up position in front of him. She leaned down and rested her hands on the couch either side of his head. There was a fire in her eyes that said she wasn't messing around, nor was she afraid of him and his skill set. "Go ahead, try it. I'll bury you like I did Dmitri. That son of a bitch got his due, and so will you."

"Lizzy, sit your arse down. Now that's enough out of the lot of you." Magdalene said. "Two of you couldn't take Cipher down, perhaps three of you can. That's why you're here. The Americans think she's in Greece."

"Good luck with that, Mum. Two of us already had part of our lives stolen 'cause of her." He gave Elizabeth a knowing look but said nothing. The idea that she could slip anything by him was laughable, but he'd give her credit: she'd taken it in her stride and never hesitated in protecting him. "If Deckard wants to go after her, he's more than welcome, but don't count me in."

Magdalene chuckled. She'd expected at least one of them to rebel. It being Owen was a surprise, yet not. As he'd said, part of his life — their lives? — had been wasted because of Cipher. "Did it sound like I was giving any of you a choice?"

"See you 'round, Mrs. Shaw." Elizabeth pushed off the couch and walked towards the door, never allowing her anger to waiver. Deckard knew she remembered most things exactly as they happened. Suggesting prison had messed with her head? He was practically begging for a flogging. "Thanks for the free ride."

"We're not finished here, Elizabeth. Take a seat, or have a piece of cake. I'll wait till you return to your senses."

"No, I think we are. You want to take down Cipher? Deckard can do it on his own." The sooner she was out the door, the better. "I'm not your daughter, I'm Mikhail's, and your crocodile tears don't work on me."

Owen looked between the two, mostly focused on the tension in Elizabeth's spine. His mother was keeping her cards close to her chest, playing it cool and straight-faced like always. Deckard had once told him that she could sell the Pope a whole new spin on doctrine. He didn't doubt it. Beth, on the other hand, could sell her soul to the Devil and not think twice if she deemed it necessary.

"Alright then, I'll have the boys drop you off at Gitmo. You _are_ a terrorist after all who should've remained locked up." Magdalene smiled, waiting for the one-sided yelling match to begin. She'd always known Lizzy had a temper, as did she, but the difference lay in how they dealt with it. "Seeing as you're a threat to society."

"I'm not going to let you kill someone just because you blame her for your sons' stupidity. Deckard and Owen made their choices. The repercussions are theirs to bear, not mine."

So much for a loss of control. She stood and stepped into Elizabeth's personal space, waiting for the pushback or her to lash out, but there was nothing. Since when did her stepdaughter act like such a conniving manipulative adult, like Owen? There was no outburst of anger, just a constant simmering rage right below the surface. "When did Cipher get to you? In prison? Before prison?"

"She didn't get to me."

"No one else could've pulled those strings to get you out. Certainly wasn't me."

"Get out of my face, _suka._" The slap that followed was hard enough to rattle her brain and leave a red handprint on her face. Elizabeth flinched but didn't move, shoving her hands in her pockets and taking a breath. It hurt like hell if she was being honest. Even Cipher didn't have a swing like that. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

Magdalene looked between the three of them. The way Deckard was staring at his sister, it was as if he were boring holes in the back of her head. Owen leaned back, head resting on his hand, looking all too smug. What was up with him? And _her_. She kept talking about choices, something Owen had pushed throughout his years, proclaiming the behaviour of others was never his fault. He never forced anyone to do anything. He couldn't control their actions, only his own. "You sold yourself to her?"

Now she got it. Elizabeth nodded, keeping her arms by her sides. Pain still radiated through the left side of her face, and she was pretty sure that was blood oozing from her nose. It dripped onto her bottom lip, tasting of rust and salt; yep, definitely blood. "Close enough."


	4. Chapter 4

"Niño, ready for your bath?" Letty said, knocking quietly on the door jamb. She poked her head into the room and chuckled at the sight of Marcus asleep, fingers curled around the base of the silver crucifix resting against Dom's chest. It'd been a while since the noise level had dropped and she'd decided to see if her suspicions were correct. Dom was passed out too, arms wrapped around Marcus as if the very thought of letting him go had reached the point of being unbearable.

With just a couple of plates left soaking in the sink, there was little to do but sit around, relax, and watch reruns of Cops. Brian and Mia had gone home earlier than usual, the car in its last stages of restoration didn't need much more than a full tank of gas and a test run, and Dom had finished the vacuuming just before dinner.

Noticing the open baby bag on the floor, Letty grabbed it and hung it off her shoulder while she rifled through its contents, checking for any bottles that needed sterilising. Clothes, diapers and wipes, his usual toys, and —

A piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Letty reached down, picked it up, and turned it over. She recognised Elena's short cursive handwriting instantly. It wasn't a love letter: Hobbs' name in the first sentence and Cipher's in the proceeding told her that much. Unless Dom had fallen for the enemy — which was highly doubtful — something was going down and Hobbs was going to need backup.

_Dom,_   
_Hobbs has gone to Cuba with Nobody. He's looking for anyone with links to Cipher and he's one step short of finding her. If something happens, please stop him from getting himself killed. I don't think he's going to do anything stupid, just reckless . . . and I know Luke will never say it, but thank you for not letting him die in the favellas that day._   
_Elena._   
_P.S, Marcus likes the gloves more than the car._

Letty resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the postscript. It was certainly going to make Dom even more determined to convert Marcus back to being a Toretto. Five minutes with a Shaw and it was as if he already knew the lyrics to God Save The Queen.

The grumbling cry of a stirring toddler had her ready for anything as Marcus began to wake. A squeak of a fart and the smell that wafted across his bedroom said she was about to have her stamina tested. Letty lifted Marcus free from Dom's arms and carried him and the baby bag out, going straight to the bathroom where Dom had set up the changing table.

"You just had to make a mess while Dad's asleep, huh?" she said, pulling his pants away from his back slightly to reveal the state of his ruined diaper. Oh God, this was full-on bath time now. Whatever had gone through his stomach and come out the other end was now creeping up his backside as he wriggled in her arms.

By the time the bath was ready, the mess had been cleaned up and Marcus was clapping and kicking. Letty lowered him in and the splashing began, chanting 'Mom' as he slid himself around and tried to eject half the water from the bath.

After a few minutes and a proper wash, he was in a red Dodge onesie and laying in his own bed. Dom, on the other hand, was still asleep on the chair with his arms curled around thin air. Letty woke him slowly with a 'hey Papa' and a kiss on the lips.

Dom blinked through the haze of exhaustion and looked up at Letty. The biggest smile formed on his face at the sight of her and he couldn't help but reach up to check she was real. After all this pain and suffering she was still with him. His wife and lover, one of a select few important people who'd chosen to stay instead of leave. Now there was another: Marcus. "Where's —"

"Relax. I gave him a bath and put him to bed. His diaper looked like a bad batch of cake batter and smelt worse than Vince after a week without a shower."

Dom cringed at the mental image and murmured a thank you when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to his feet. Words couldn't express just how happy he'd been since finding her in London, and then Los Angeles — when her memories returned, it was as if the last few years had been wiped away. "I think it's bedtime for me too."

"Or we could go to our room and you can stay up for another hour. I've got all these wet clothes that need to come off." Letty tugged him closer and groaned at the feel of his hands sliding down her hips to her thighs. She loved his hands, those thumbs especially, and that middle and index finger: he could do wonders with those fingers, but nothing beat the feel of his hands squeezing hers while Dom used that magical mouth of his. He lifted her and carried her out of Marcus' bedroom and into theirs. "I think we should start with this shirt."

* * *

"You still want that coffee?"

"Please." Ramsey stretched her arms and closed the laptop, setting it aside before she took the offered mug from Tej's hands. As much as she hated the taste, this bitter black swill he made was keeping her wide awake. After her marathon hacking session finished, she'd sleep at midnight and wake up at six like clockwork, then return to her laptop an hour later. "It's been weeks since Cipher pinged my radar. I've accounted for everything and I still can't find her."

He slid onto the bed and stretched out next to her. They could do this, it was just going to take time that the team really couldn't afford to waste. The sooner it was all over, the sooner they could go back to living their normal lives without having to look over their shoulders. "So we change our approach. Find someone who's already _in_ contact with Cipher."

"Which would require finding her first and sniffing any and all packets then tracing them back to their source, seeing as we don't know anyone in contact with her." She'd thought of that, but it relied entirely on luck and timing. Capturing the packets before Cipher had a chance to erase them? They'd have to be on the same network as whoever she was talking to. "_If_ there are any packets left by the time she's done sweeping her trail clean."

Tej groaned. It didn't matter how many satellites they connected to, or who Hobbs called on their behalf, they were still coming up empty. He leaned over and kissed the hollow of her neck, breathing in the lingering scent of her lavender body wash. "Why can't we just go back to the simpler days of drug dealers and stealing safes?"

"Because you'd enjoy it too much." She smirked and set her coffee down on the bedside drawer. If she was being honest, it felt like he was spoiling her some days. The other morning, they'd spent five hours laying in bed and not once had she gotten up to get dressed or make herself a cup of coffee. "Breaking the law is what you do best, isn't it?"

"Oh I can think of a few things I do better than that."

* * *

While Deckard eased the engine of his Defender back into place, Owen sat back, spoon in hand and cake tin nestled between his and Elizabeth's legs. When she'd walked in with _two_ spoons instead of one, the cake tin, and a small jug of ganache, his mouth began watering immediately. Whoever thought four in the morning wasn't a perfect time for eating cake had to be a bloody puritan. Owen licked the spoon clean and smiled at Deckard who was now reconnecting everything and wiping the engine down.

"You gonna save any of that for me?"

"There's chak-chak on the kitchen bench."

Deckard scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course there was, considering he hated it. All that honey and sugar made it too sweet for his tastes, but zapekanka? He finished reinstalling the engine and found a clean rag, wiping the sweat and grease off his hands before he climbed in the driver's seat. "I thought you baked two of those."

"I did." Overindulging couldn't hurt a fly if it only happened once a month. She would've been in her apartment in Cuba with a whole cake to herself if not for Magdalene, but sitting here next to Owen while Deckard did all the work and she had nothing to do but play tech-head? Elizabeth had forgotten how nice it was being part of a family. In so much as they could call themselves a family, it was still nice. Owen hadn't changed at all, nor Deckard; the pair hadn't gotten off her case about Cipher or Cuba for the past three hours. Owen also couldn't stop laughing about the look of sheer shock on Deckard's face when their mother had slapped Beth. "And the other one's reserved for breakfast."

"C'mon, what's wrong with you? Playing favourites again, I see." He gestured with one hand while he started the Land Rover with the other. It purred to life and the rattle that'd been plaguing him was gone. "Hand it over, and the third spoon. Yeah, I ain't blind, it's in your pocket. Pass me the bloody cake."

"It's not a spoon."

He frowned. If she was carrying a knife around in her pocket while with them — in the presence of their mother — he was going to kill her. "Then what is it?"

For pete's sake. What was it with him and double standards? So Deckard could walk around with a killer attitude and a decade plus of military experience, but she wasn't allowed a chance of defending herself? "Switchblade."

Of course it was! Maybe if she'd just learn proper self defence, even a couple Krav Maga moves, she wouldn't risk their arses and hers by carrying a knife around. Every time they were together, she always pulled shit like this. If she didn't end up pissing someone off or picking a fight with one of them, she was trying to pretend she was on par with them. "Jesus Christ, Beth! I swear you're going to get us all killed one day."

"It's not from my bag." Owen raised his hands, spoon in one and the other empty. This was the usual eccentric Deckard 'I was nominated for a Victoria Cross' Shaw response, but situations rarely occurred that brought out this side of him. "You know I don't need a knife to take care of the likes of her."

Wait, was that a threat, a compliment, or an insult? From Owen, you could never quite tell. And it _was_ from his bag. For as long as he'd been in the military, they'd always had an arrangement: if together, one of them brought a knife. Sometimes fists just couldn't cut it, and for her, a knife was an easier form of self defence than punching her way out. Being able to throw or hold something was also less risky than allowing someone close enough to shank her.

"Are you _ever_ going to stop pretending like I'm the only one making stupid decisions around here, Deck?" she snapped. And here they went, butting heads over things he couldn't let go of. There was a reason she got along better with Owen than him: he couldn't let go of grudges. When it came to Owen, bygones were bygones inside of a week, and if there was still a lingering issue, they put everything on the table and dealt with it. "I was eighteen, and I chose the mob over the military because at least I belong there."

_Have your fucking cake,_ she thought, standing and leaving her spoon on the stool. If one of them didn't walk away now, tempers were going to flare and this would turn out worse than it had with Magdalene. With Deckard and Owen, she rarely held back; they'd seen the full extent of her temper on her worst day and lived to laugh about it. Being a grown woman who lost her temper would also make her feel nothing short of weak and pathetic. _I'm going for a run._

"And where do you think you're going?" Deckard scowled as she opened the garage door. She was hardly dressed for a date at a cafe let alone visit her friends, provided she still had any. "It's a quarter past four and we're leaving for Greece at midday."

_She's not even in Greece anymore, wanker._ She shut the garage door behind her and started jogging down the driveway. The old hag on the front step with her cup of tea, leopard print jacket, and large tiger's eye ring, went ignored. Seconds later, Magdalene was up off her arse and keeping pace in her slippers. Elizabeth cringed but said nothing, focused on hugging the gutter and not being hit by any cars.

Magdalene waited till they turned the corner and allowed herself to fall a few paces behind before she said, "I'm sorry, Lizzy."

"I called you a bitch, you slapped me." The bite of anger in her voice wasn't subtle despite all attempts to keep her tone flat. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. You ain't my flesh and blood but you're still my daughter." Maybe it was that dark head of hair or those high cheekbones, but when Elizabeth tilted her head at just the right angle, she could've sworn it was Michael standing there and not her. Owen had his jaw and nose, but everything else including his attitude towards Owen and Deckard and those cold eyes had skipped their two sons and ended up in her. "Slow down will you? I'm not that fit anymore, love. Can we at least talk about this like grown women?"

"Fine. Perhaps then we can stop acting like your sons are boys to be coddled and not men who need a good boot up the arse." How many times had she let Owen's behaviour slide over the years, or excused it? The fights, the pretending like his personality didn't verge on borderline psychopathic some days. Ignoring Deckard's penchant for wannabe heroics was one thing; turning a blind eye to Owen coming home with fractured ribs, bruised eyes, busted lips, and shredded knuckles, was another. Elizabeth stepped onto the nature strip and turned around to face her, angling herself away from the road as two black SUVs drove past and turned into their street. "What do you really want?"

"How's your father?"

The last time she'd heard from him was pre-Gitmo, before Cipher entered their lives and Owen went on his rampage. Those were the days when touching half a billion dollars was just a dream and the closest she could come was crunching numbers at a desk in Moscow. Now it was still a dream, but Cipher's presence had pushed it a few steps closer to becoming reality. "I wouldn't know."

She buttoned her jacket up to the collar and frowned, smoothing out the wrinkles before she started walking back towards the corner of their street. She could spot suspicion from a mile away and _that_ was beyond blatant. Magdalene made sure the street and its surroundings were always well lit in case of emergency. Irish government plates on military vehicles? That never boded well. "Armoured cars don't often drive 'round these parts of London."

Cars that had to be at least four or five hundred kilos heavier than they were fresh off the factory floor? No, they didn't. All that weight made them sit lower sans their tyres being raised or suspension systems improved. That left two options: either they didn't care about being spotted, in which case whoever used those cars was a complete idiot, or riding low was a strategic choice.

"If there's any chance they're not headed for my house, they'll be exiting the street now." Living in a cul-de-sac with other elderly people offered one advantage: if the police or other law enforcement types showed up, it didn't require a genius to figure out whose door they were about to knock on.

A sigh and a shrug was Elizabeth's only response before she started walking in the direction of the house. The chance of that happening was slim to none. Unless the old crone next door had chosen to murder her husband spur of the moment, odds were Deckard and Owen had probably pissed somebody off again.

Magdalene trailed behind her as they took the corner. She stopped just past the first electricity pole and didn't budge. Her instincts told her to stay put. From a distance she could see five people in tactical gear standing on her front lawn, and her sons on their knees.

One minute there were three, the next two. Deckard looked up just as a figure crash tackled one of the soldiers to the ground and drew the attention of the others. The few seconds it afforded him was all he needed to disarm one and disable another by dislocating their dominant arm. Owen dealt with the two remaining without hesitation, leaving Beth to her brawl.

Given a two second advantage, she punched her target in the face twice, drove his balls up into his body with her knee, and pressed her switchblade to the underside of his jaw. For good measure, she jackhammered her knee into his groin again then demanded, "Who are you? What do you want?"

The sound of Deckard being hit distracted her and it took all of a moment to throw her into the ground. Flynn, or so his uniform read, took the opportunity to draw his pistol and pressed it to the back of her head. When he spoke, his American accent came as a surprise. "Mr. Nobody has a plane waiting. Either you three come willingly or we cuff you and drag you onboard."

The click of the safety sent a shiver down her spine and turned her bones to jelly. The steel barrel felt colder than ice when it was pressed into her scalp, leaving her anger at seeing her brothers on their knees to dissipate as she crumpled under his weight. How one noise could hurl someone backwards through twenty-nine years of memories was something she'd never quite understand, but it did. She could feel the wooden floorboards under her hands, and the top of her head smacked the slats of the bed above her each time she tried to look up; her muffled shallow breathing sounded like thunder in her ears while the acrid stench of cigar smoke stung her nostrils.

"You made a deal, Deckard."

"I told him I'd find Cipher. I only need more time!"

"I want to go back to Santa Clara," Owen heard Elizabeth whisper. "Put me back on that fucking plane _now_."

"Your time's up. Cuffs or no cuffs? Do we make this easier or harder than it has to be?"

From where Owen stood, nothing looked different about Beth except the tremors in her hands. With the bastard's knee on her back and his gun to her head, she hadn't moved a centimetre since being pinned. "No cuffs! Just get off her, will you?"

"Deckard?" Flynn pressed, ignoring Owen's call. "If you're not going to do it for yourself, think of your siblings. She's meant to be serving life, and the Spanish want him dead."

He swore under his breath. What the hell was Nobody playing at? He'd told them it'd take longer than two months. Eventually Cipher would be locked up in segregation at U-Max, but finding her wasn't as simple as snapping his fingers. He looked across at Owen, one step short of breaking someone's neck, and Beth, hands shaking as she tried to keep it together.

"Now look what you've done. Ruined my bloody flowers, you have! I've been growing those in memory of their father." The look on the soldiers' faces as Magdalene walked towards them and began her tirade could only be described as sheer horror. The false sense of security they'd been lulled into by thinking the worst was over had just been shattered. "Couldn't even wait till daylight before coming in to destroy another family, could you? This is elderly abuse by the government! I want to speak to Head Office. You're MI5, aren't you? It's always MI5, ever since Thatcher finished her run you've been harassing my family."

"Mum, it's fine," Deckard said, standing and moving between her and the group of five. Two SUVs were parked facing the house but only one had opened its doors. The other, he assumed, was for them. "Why don't you go back inside and make yourself a cuppa, eh, and what're you doing wandering around in your slippers at this time of morning?"

Her shoulders sagged as she got to her feet. Flynn had backed off the minute Magdalene started shouting. Free to move, she stepped backwards toward Owen and flicked the switchblade closed. Who knew one day she'd end up being saved by the old hag? As Magdalene walked past her, Elizabeth murmured, "thank you."

"Keep them alive, will you?" she responded in a low voice. "I can't be there to save you every time."

"Dementia," Owen said, gesturing to his head. "Sometimes she thinks she is Thatcher."

"I heard that, Owen Geoffrey! Oh look what you've done to Sheila, she's terrified. Poor cat." She scooped up air and cradled it against her chest. "You come around here again and I'll have you arrested!"


	5. Chapter 5

"There's no time for arguing, now get in the car." Deckard had seen that little head tilt and the following jaw movement. His sister and mother conspiring together? That couldn't be good for anyone. The second SUV had driven up onto the kerb and nature strip by the time Magdalene retreated inside; its rear door was promptly opened and the fate that awaited them dangled in their faces. "Now."

Owen grabbed the inside roof handle and pulled himself in, taking the corner seat behind the driver without hesitation. He noted the tinted glass barrier separating them and the driver, along with the lack of just about everything a car usually had in the way of comfort and accessibility. With no controls for the blacked out windows and no door handles, it was a veritable death trap if ever he'd seen one.

Deckard climbed in next. There was no point in looking over his shoulder to check for Elizabeth. She wasn't getting in any time soon without a fight, if ever. He could read her like one of those waterproof books you bought a toddler for bathtime; action was prized over words, and loyalty placed alongside it. A willingness to do whatever was necessary to survive, however, ranked first place amongst the aspects of her personality he'd deemed most dangerous.

Owen, unsurprisingly, was predictable in his eyes, and when it came down to it so was she. There were only so many choices a person could make in any given situation. Hers presently came down to two: get in the car, or don't.

Flynn stepped forward and gestured to the open door. If she didn't move, he'd lift her and throw her in himself. Woman or not he'd had it up to here with playing chauffer to Nobody's pals. All he'd ever gotten from it was a growing list of injuries. "You have thirty seconds before I put you in that car myself, Miss Shaw."

"You have five to get out of my face."

"Oh I do? Get—"

She whipped her head forward and struck his nose with her forehead. The cartilage shattered into fragments on impact, leaving his nose looking lopsided and off-centre. "I swear to God himself if they don't make it to wherever the hell you're taking us alive, you'll have more to worry about than a broken nose."

Owen managed to smother a laugh but couldn't hide the amused look on his face. Albeit he earned himself a glare from Deckard, he opted to give her a thumbs up once she was inside the SUV. Perhaps the pickup team hadn't been briefed on how the Shaw family operated. Truthfully, he found that hard to believe. Unless they were working from old files, there was no reason for anyone to think they could begin to try and push his sister around without being on the receiving end of her defiant attitude. And if not for Deckard signalling him to go easy on these bastards, there would've been a pile of bodies ready for burial inside of five minutes.

"You've gotten—" Owen paused and looked Elizabeth over. Where _had_ their chipmunk of a sister gone? Now she was more like a bear: aggressive and headstrong with a touch of impulsiveness to boot. "—better."

She shrugged off the compliment and chose to slide closer to Owen. When the doors shut, she'd need some form of reassurance to quell the anxiety that'd rear its head. The question of whether that door, like the one on her cell, would ever open again couldn't be permitted room in her head, and yet it was already there in the back of her mind, fuelling her instinctual fears. "I had some free time in prison."

She just couldn't stay out of trouble, could she? First Dmitri, then Cipher. Now she was throwing her weight around once more. As amusing as it was, Deckard preferred not to think about the repercussions of them assaulting their escort. A busted nose wasn't much of an injury, however it was as valid an excuse as any to break out the riot gear and flog them.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the reinforced door was slammed shut and the passenger compartment thrown into darkness. Their faces were illuminated only by what little light passed through the glass barrier; it glinted off the thick metal rings they should've been shackled to and splintered into thin lines that faded to nothingness beneath the seats. The SUV bounced as it reversed off the nature strip before proceeding to exit the street and turn right. The nearest airport was just under an hour's drive away.

"Beth?" Owen murmured as she gripped his right hand and squeezed it. More than four years apart and it was like nothing had changed. Either God had done them a favour, or the Devil had plans, because their family was intact and mostly unscathed. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine." Of course she was. That door would open inside of an hour and they'd be able to breathe fresh air. They weren't going to be taken to a black site and left for dead, right? It was just a bad case of extortion and blackmail, not the preliminary to an execution. "Just tell me she paid you."

"She?"

"I didn't ruin my life only to find out we got ripped off." How could she even show her face in Moscow now? She'd been taken by the Feds and was still alive: what other assumption could they make other than she became a snitch. "Twenty-eighty was the agreed split, remember?"

_Dammit._ Owen pulled his hand free and slid toward the other end of the seat. He'd wound up smeared over the tarmac and comatose before the chip could be delivered! Cipher had made a five percent security deposit, but that billion dollars would never see the light of day. No delivery, no payment: Elizabeth had to know how these types of business deals went down. "No, we didn't get paid," Owen said, "the plane was taken down before I could make delivery."

* * *

"The bad news: I've got an injured team member … she broke his nose."

Luke almost snorted his drink at that. If a broken nose was the worst of their worries, the Shaws had held back. He set his bottle of water and a copy of Sun Tzu's The Art of War down, and waited for the other penny to drop. Seated by a window with his legs stretched out in front of him, Hobbs had been dreading an update since they'd boarded the plane. Cuba had been one giant letdown, but surely grabbing them on their home turf where they felt comfortable and safe would prove beneficial. "Do I get dessert?"

"They're in the back of an SUV right now," Eric said, clutching a manila folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. There was no use in hiding the shit-eating grin on his face. Even if he wanted to, it just wouldn't go away. He sat opposite Nobody and crossed one leg over the other then proceeded to open the folder with one hand. _Captain Owen G. Shaw,_, the inside cover sheet read, _British Special Air Service._ "The plane leaves in forty minutes, and it's a direct flight from London."

"All three?"

"Deckard, Elizabeth, and Owen." He took a sip of his coffee and set it down in the holder. To hell with sleep, he needed to memorise these files cover to cover and find something — anything — he could use as leverage beyond the obvious. "They'll be on U.S soil in eleven hours."

Hobbs nodded to himself and smiled in anticipation of the looks he'd get when that car door was opened. He imagined the younger two Shaws wouldn't be so happy. They were the ones who'd embraced the criminal lifestyle, unlike Deckard; he'd come looking for revenge, not a paycheck. "I want to be there when they land."

"You will," Mr. Nobody said. He undid his tie and set it aside. His suit jacket was already bagged and hanging in the onboard storage closet, along with his shoes. The lights had been dimmed and the curtains were closed to block out the plane's navigation lights. "Junior here isn't cut out to handle the big game yet."

"I said I wouldn't shit the bed again," Eric protested. They'd been over this numerous times: he was more than ready to sell their plan. "I've worked on my sales pitch for the last three months. _You've_heard it, right, Hobbs?"

"Maybe once you've gained another hundred pounds," Nobody said, ending the conversation. "It's not a matter of your sales pitch. You just trapped three wolves in a cage and two have over fifteen years military experience."

"And the other one," Luke said, "Well, if she goes for your balls in a fight, you'll know about it."

All those memories from the good days, Luke had clung to them after his team was killed. He remembered well what'd happened in that brothel hallway with Fusco, those weeks spent in Tahiti simultaneously chasing a criminal and relaxing; the day he opened a box of files and handpicked his team. The pain had eased after months of counselling, but the sense of loss and that permanent feeling of now having one hand tied behind his back when doing his job would never go away.

"Fine." Better Hobbs than him in that case. Eric returned his attention to the manila folder on his lap and started rereading it for the third time in the past week. There had to be something in their files, some clue as to how Cipher had found them, or how she'd first approached Deckard.

He was disappointed, Luke noted. Jesus, Reisner was going to get himself killed if he approached them the wrong way. The brothers weren't volatile per se, but they certainly had no problem knocking someone off their pedestal. "_If_ you come to the airfield, you keep your mouth shut," Luke relented, "and I do all the talking."

It was fair enough, Eric supposed. He hadn't had contact with Owen Shaw, and based off what hadn't been redacted in Deckard's file, the two brothers were the antitheses of each other. He also hadn't worked with Hobbs before without Nobody present. This was an opportunity to learn, _and_ to study their not-quite-allies. "Thank you."

"Uh-huh." Luke stood and stretched his upper body then sat and reclined his seat back. Five hours from now, he'd be asleep in a hotel room near the airport while they waited for the Shaws to land. While he sympathised with being stuck in a parked car within the belly of a plane for eleven long hours, no one could argue it wasn't for the sake of solving a problem the Shaws themselves had created. "Have fun reading."

* * *

"You wanna grab him?" Letty said, stirring as Marcus's cries reached her ears. She'd finally learnt all the various pitches and tones of his cries over the last two months, and could tell just by the way he tried to flatten his nostrils against his face if she was in need of the diaper bag. Fortunately, this was his regular 'I need a change' cry. "Dom—"

She glanced up and noted Dom's absence before letting her head drop back against the pillow. The clock on the bedside drawer read two a.m. One hour since his last diaper change? If this was a case of diarrhea, Letty was going to need to stock up again on wipes. Letty closed her eyes just as the sound of Dom's voice and footsteps reached her ears; she felt the bed sink when they rejoined her and thought nothing more of it till she woke again.

By then, the early morning sunlight filtered through the thin blue curtains of their room and cast shapes against the far wall. If the sun was up, so were she and Dom; that was how they lived their life now. Give Marcus an opportunity to climb something or hide and they could spend an hour searching for him, only for him to slip out and surprise them.

"Dom?" Letty called out before she found her pants and a shirt and tugged them on. His side of the bed was empty and neatened, leaving her to wonder if he was downstairs or taking a shower. Some mornings, she'd find him on the phone talking to Marcus and Elena, listening as Marcus 'explained' what manner of trouble he'd gotten up to in Elena's apartment or Hobbs' office.

"Momma," Marcus squealed, giggling as he was promptly hidden under a bed sheet by Dom..

"Momma, I think we lost Marcus again!" Dom called out from the spare bedroom. Marcus had spent half the night fussing and left him with little choice but to sleep in the spare bedroom with his son. The past two weeks had been rough for Letty. Some nights he found her asleep with her head on the toilet roll holder, other times she'd be on the sofa downstairs with a set of earphones in and her playlists set to shuffle. She hadn't talked to him about what was keeping her awake, and Dom was hesitant to ask. As much as he wanted to understand and be supportive of his wife, part of him didn't want to hear her answer if it involved Elena and Marcus.

"Again?" Letty said, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she walked out into the hallway. It was the exaggerated looks on their faces that would set Marcus off once they 'found' where he was hiding. His high pitch laugh that only came out when they were playing a game, that cheeky grin on his face: it was all Dom; even Leon had taken one look at Marcus and instantly fallen in love with him. Marcus just seemed to have that effect on people. "Papa, how'd you lose Marcus this time? Did you leave him in the garage again?"

"I don't think so." He stretched out on the bed and feigned ignorance each time Marcus stuck his head out from beneath the blanket, only to quickly crawl back under moments later.

"_Oh._ I see we've got a problem with lumpy blankets again." Letty sat beside Dom and gently poked Marcus through the blanket. In a few seconds, he'd sit up and wrestle with the blanket to reveal himself as he always did. And right on schedule, Marcus sat up on his knees and attempted a roar. Letty fell back on the bed in response and gasped. "You scared me!"

"There was a note from Elena in the bag," Dom said. He hadn't wanted to show it to her once he found it, except Letty deserved to know what exactly was going on. It seemed Hobbs was searching for Cipher again, and Elena felt worried enough to ask Dom to help him if the situation went south. He'd never hesitate in coming to Luke's aid, but with Marcus in his life, suddenly every risk he took was assessed and thought over. "I called her earlier and she said she'll come pick Marcus up in a few hours."

"Yeah, I found it too," Letty said, "I just didn't know what to do with it." Would he be angry? She'd seen it and dreaded what would follow if she acted on it. How many times had they risked their lives for Hobbs? Every time he came calling, Dom answered. Letty was tired of the bullets and blood. She wanted to go back to fixing cars and not spend her nights wondering what piece of her — their — past would come back to haunt them.

"If Hobbs gets into trouble, he's gonna need the team, Letty." He reached for Marcus and pulled him onto his chest, grunting quietly when his son began to bounce up and down and kick his legs. Dom had told Letty about Brazil and the heist, being hunted by Hobbs and ending up in the middle of a firefight that didn't end well for the DSS, but he'd never found the words to fully express the horror of it all. "He's gonna need us."

* * *

"Where are we?" she said, sitting on the floor of the car with her legs bent and hair tied up in bun. The drive had been alright, till suddenly the car began driving uphill and a loud rumbling noise surrounded them. Deckard and Owen proceeded to tell her to get comfortable, that the door would be closed for far longer than expected, and so the nightmare had begun. "We haven't moved since the plane landed. D'you think—"

"Go back to sleep, Beth," Owen groaned. If he'd known following Deckard meant spending half a day trapped in a car with someone who couldn't understand the concept of 'getting over it', Owen would've walked back inside the house and told Deckard exactly where to shove his compliance. "We could be anywhere in the world and we won't know where we are till that door opens."

A plane. A goddamn plane. The bastard had driven them into a plane and left them in the SUV without a word. The air-con kept them cool enough, and Deckard found a sealed six-pack of bottled water shoved in a corner, but nothing could stop her mind ticking over, nor could anything stop her nausea.

Given Nobody's involvement, there were only a few places he imagined it would be worth hand-delivering them to. Los Angeles was one of them. Deckard squinted in the dark but couldn't see much more than the shape of Elizabeth, still fighting herself and trying to remain calm. Eleven hours in a car was a long time for anyone, but a car they couldn't leave was far worse.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the car and the numbers on his digital wrist watch became visible, Deckard relented in giving it to Elizabeth as a distraction. It allowed her to focus, to tune out her body and the occasional harsh movements of the plane; it also stopped Owen's complaining about her inability to cope in what was a considerably large confined space. The first fight, unfortunately, came three hours into their trip. The second at the seven hour mark. Deckard had all but accepted the third fight would place them at war with one another.

"Wankers," Elizabeth grumbled, easing herself down again and stretching her legs out on the floor. She tucked one arm under her head and clutched the wrist watch in her other hand, curling and stretching her toes against the now warm rubber flooring. "When he opens that door, I'll break more than just his nose."

"Relax, will you?" Deckard said, and thumped his fist repeatedly against his seat. She really was starting to get on his nerves, though he couldn't blame her. As if on cue, he heard the whirr of the plane's ramp being lowered, and heavy footsteps on metal followed two minutes later. It was about time! _Please be Hobbs,_ he prayed, listening to the lock disengage, _for God's sake let it be Hobbs._

"Door's unlocked, Shaw. Sorry about the wait. Little Nobody here couldn't pick which dress he wanted to wear this morning."

Deckard slid his way along the seats, lifting his feet when he felt Elizabeth on the floor, and made it to the door quicker than his brother could pick a fight. He pushed against the door and it swung open, revealing Hobbs with Little Nobody standing behind him. "Took your sweet time, didn't you, and what's _he_ want?"

"Sorry."

"We want you to help us find Cipher," Little Nobody interrupted.

"What do you think I've been doing these past few months?" Deckard said, climbing out and stepping to the side, "Sitting on my arse? I told you it would take time."

"Well we're running out of time. Are you in or what?" Luke said. "There's a flight back to London in four hours if you say no."

"Good," Elizabeth said, stepping out of the SUV before Owen could move. She looked past Deckard to the figure he was talking to, and shielded her eyes from the sudden intrusion of light with one hand. "You can book me a seat—"

"Well if it isn't Her Royal Highness." Luke planted his feet firm and rested his hands on his hips, giving her a smug smirk that said if she tried anything he'd bodyslam her into the floor of the plane. "Hi, Princess. Long time no see."

"Hobbs," she growled, stepping sideways so she could glare at him without interference from Deckard's shoulder. "I hoped you'd be dead now."

"I tried it. Nice apartment in Santa Clara, by the way," Luke said, noting when Deckard put his arm out to stop her. "Those tools under the floorboards? It's a shame you had to leave them behind. Anyway, as I was saying: Cipher's on the move and we need to find her soon before she pulls something bigger than kidnapping and nearly killing a federal agent and her child."

"You know this arsehole, Deck?"

Owen sat in the doorway of the SUV and scoffed as he carded his fingers through his short black hair to neaten it. "We all do. He's a two-bit government hack."

"You, take a walk," Deckard said, giving Elizabeth a look. "Owen, shut up and pay attention. Keep talking, Hobbs."


	6. Chapter 6

He'd found her apartment. An apartment with no paper trail and only a handshake as a lease agreement. Elizabeth shrugged to herself, muttered "not bad", and crossed her arms over her chest. A two-bit government hack couldn't find someone who'd gone to the extent she had to conceal herself, but naturally Hobbs could. Clearly she'd underestimated his abilities and determination. "How'd you do it?"

"I have eyes everywhere." Where would the fun be in admitting God's Eye existed and that he could track them across the globe without having to leave his bed? The less they knew the better. Till he was certain none of them were working for Cipher, he'd keep everything compartmentalised.

There really was no hiding from him, was there? No matter which country she picked, or what rock she lay under, Hobbs had some inescapable advantage. "What's the offer this time?"

"There is no offer," Deckard said, "no deal. We're finishing what we started, it's as simple as that."

_More like what they started_. She shoved Deckard's arm down and walked towards the ramp. And what Hobbs had said about the kid, was he lying or had Cipher finally lost it? All that talk of holding the superpowers of the world accountable, the billion dollars, only to allegedly kidnap a child. Christ, what'd happened in the past two years?

"Shaw, wait." If he had to buy her, so be it. It was a temporary solution to a longterm problem; a solution that could buy him enough time to find a more permanent one. Luke sighed and glanced over at Eric with a hopeful look on his face then said, "I expunge your record, you help us track Cipher."

That was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard. If Hobbs did that, she'd be on the fast track to an early grave. The mob would notice something as miraculous as her criminal record suddenly disappearing, and they'd _know_. It didn't take much more than that to figure out she'd caved and bent the knee to the government. It wasn't as if she could ever return to Moscow and get her old job back anyway, but what further proof was there that someone had turned traitor. Elizabeth shook her head and descended the plane's ramp only to find herself facing five men in tactical gear when she reached the bottom.

Who was she kidding? It didn't matter what Hobbs offered, she'd never take his deal on principle.

"Fine," Eric muttered. The hard way it was, irregardless of Hobbs' approval. He put his cellphone to his ear and said, "Bravo Team is green."

Owen was on the floor with a rifle in his face before he had a chance to react to the movement in his peripheral vision. Deckard, on the other hand, stood tall and glared daggers at Reisner as two men approached him with their sidearms drawn. He shook his head, muttered "wanker" and shifted his focus to Hobbs. "You're really just gonna stand there and let this bastard screw us over, Hobbs? I thought you and me had a thing, Twinkletoes."

"We need all three of you," Eric said.

"No, you only need the two of us, plus Toretto's crew. Does that sound about right?" Deckard said. This was the exact same argument they'd just had, and God knew Deckard hated repeating himself. "I already told you I was looking for Cipher. You could've waited! One more month and we'd have found her."

Eric scoffed and stepped forward to approach Deckard. If he wanted to play, they'd play. He signalled the two men on Owen and they hauled him to his knees. The moment he gave the word, Shaw would be behind bars again and Deckard would be on his knees kissing their ass to get his brother free again. "Have her how? We've got God's Eye running twenty-four seven and she hasn't pinged it once. Cipher's out there and we can't even find her with it, what makes you think two washed out British Special Forces soldiers could find her?"

"Well good luck finding her with Toretto's crew alone. Nice knowing you, Hobbs. I'll take that plane ride back to London, thanks."

Goddamnit! "Why do you have to make everything so difficult, Shaw? She's alive because of _your_screwup, not ours. This is your mess to clean up. If you'd killed her when you had the chance, none of this would be happening."

"And if I had, Marcus would be dead. Your arse was on the ground, Reisner, not on that bloody plane saving the baby. I made my decision and I stand by it!"

Elizabeth paused midway up the ramp, listening intently to the argument. Cipher really had kidnapped a child it seemed, and Deckard had gone all Captain Britain on them. She swallowed and shoved her trembling hands in her pockets, focusing on the solid metal beneath her bare feet in an attempt to slow her heart rate down. _Deckard_ was the ones making things difficult? Of course, it wasn't as if this Yank in a suit and his friends had kidnapped them at gunpoint from their mother's home or anything. Typical Americans. They stirred the pot then got out of Dodge and let everyone else stand in the way when the shit hit the fan.

Luke looked to his left and noticed her standing there but said nothing. If she'd been listening for even half the time, maybe it'd sway her compass in their direction. That was the deal with the Shaws, wasn't it? _Every man has to have a code_, Owen said that night, _Mine? Precision._ God only knew what Deckard's code was. Shaw had earned his respect over those few days, but if Deckard had a code, Hobbs couldn't pinpoint it.

And her. She'd taken the dive, remained silent on the Owen front the entire time. Was it honour, protection, or justice? Or something as simple as greed? Something had to be ticking in that head of hers, else why throw away two years of her life only to hole up in an apartment and live on rice and beans and fix things for free?

"It's your call, Deckard," Luke spoke finally. "Either Owen goes to prison, or he helps the team."

Her footsteps echoed in the plane as her feet slapped the metal floor and Hobbs couldn't help but chuckle. All he'd had to do was make a threat and she was ready to go to war. Now Luke understood. Her code was family, and protection. She'd taken the dive for Owen, and here she came marching towards them looking like she'd been sent by the Devil himself at the mere mention of Owen going to prison. Luke smiled at Eric and nodded. They didn't need to buy her, they just had to keep Owen's head on the chopping block and she'd jump the second they gave the word.

"You!"

"Let me guess," Luke said with a chuckle, "you want your corgis back."

"Hobbs." Deckard scowled. The British jokes had worn out their welcome after the first 'Your Majesty' crack. He knew how to take a joke, but some things you just got over after the first half dozen times they were said. What happened next, well, Deckard couldn't say he was surprised, however unexpected it was. Elizabeth went straight past Hobbs without another word and rammed her knee into Little Nobody's junk then jabbed him in the face with her fist, leaving him with a bloody nose and the choice of whether to stand with his head tilted back or double over and protect his crown jewels.

"If you _ever_ threaten either of my brothers again, Reisner, you're gonna wish I understood the concept of self-restraint," Elizabeth spat. She turned on her toes and walked towards the SUV with its still-open door. Her shoes were inside it, along with her fears. She leaned in and found her boots then sat in the doorway and tugged them on, all the while never taking her eyes off Hobbs and his bloody friend. "So when do we start this little carnival of horrors?"

"We don't," Owen said, shoving one of the guns out of his face. If they weren't going to shoot him, he wasn't going to kneel there as if waiting for the executioner to put him out of his misery. "We're going back home. To Mum."

"Oh, are we now?"

Deckard rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car. One minute they were saving each other's skins, the next they were flogging each other or picking fights over some tiny thing like how to marinade a piece of meat. He supposed this was what happened when you left two kids with 'me vs the world' attitudes to fend for themselves.

"Yeah." Owen turned around and closed the gap between them. She was already two steps behind and didn't even know it. It figured she'd lost her touch given he'd been in prison and she'd been living it up in Cuba. "The next flight out will have tickets with our names on them."

She crossed her arms and glared at him from where she sat. If he thought she'd last a minute on a plane without medication, Owen had clearly forgotten how many bags she'd needed on their school trip to Dublin. "I'm not getting on another fucking plane when I just spent the entire night locked in that car."

"I didn't say we'd be physically onboard," he murmured, "got it?"

They wouldn't be—

_Oh._

She shoved him backwards and out of her face. Putting their names on tickets would surely ping Cipher's radar, if she was actively looking for them. "You're an arse, you know. You get out of prison and don't write me a bloody letter to say you're alive."

"What would've been the point? You didn't even know I'd ended up in a coma."

"Common courtesy, Owen. Mum's been trying to teach you it for twenty-nine or more years but it never gets through your thick skull."

Luke caught Deckard's attention and jerked his head towards the ramp. Whatever had just happened between them, he'd need Shaw keeping tabs on his siblings if things were to go off without a hitch. Hobbs glanced back at Reisner and his bloody nose before he descended the ramp but didn't say a word. They had other problems to deal with, one of which included how he was going to get Owen and Letty in a room without someone ending up dead. "Are they always like that?" he asked as Deckard caught up to him, "I don't need any more damn problems. Eric and Roman are bad enough, but those two—"

"You should see them when they're _actively_ trying to kill each other." He hadn't liked the way Owen got so close, but it was easier to let them sort their problems out than step in and play any variant of peacekeeper. Sometimes, you just had to know when to walk away and mind your own business. "But don't play her like that. She'll join the team of her own volition soon enough, it'll just take time."

"We don't have time." That was half the problem. The longer it took to find Cipher, the higher the risk she'd find them first. Sure enough they'd chosen a new facility to be Nowhere 2.0, but Luke didn't want to sit around and just do nothing while he waited for Shaw and whoever else to make up their minds. "And I didn't play her, Little Nobody did, and you've seen how well that's worked out for him so far."

"Yeah, sorry about that. She's a little . . ."

"Aggressive?"

Deckard shrugged. Close enough. Owen and Elizabeth seemed to have inherited their father's violent streak, along with his propensity for mischief. He, on the other hand, was the supposed spitting image of their mother. The phrase 'still waters run deep' had been used to describe them both at one time or another, though he also had no qualms about embracing his father's attitude towards life.

"Have you heard from Toretto?" Deckard said.

"No." Luke had wanted the three of them onboard before he and Dom spoke. Hopefully, it'd mean Dom would feel this wasn't just some suicide mission. Without him and his crew, the four of them didn't stand a chance against Cipher and they both knew it. "He's been helping to raise Marcus."

"So there hasn't exactly been a good time to ask 'how do you prefer to die?' yet."

"Nobody's dying, Shaw. Not on my watch." Hobbs was being cautious first and foremost. With two loose cannons on the team already, he couldn't afford anyone going rogue and flying off the handle. They'd come up with a plan and unless something went wrong, they'd stick to it. Luke knew Toretto could improvise, and that the others would follow him, but Owen and their sister — well that was a disaster waiting to happen.

"How's your partner?"

Deckard wasn't quite sure how someone was meant to ask about the wellbeing of a woman they'd once tried to kill, but he had come to like her. She was a decent person in his eyes, and the way Hobbs spoke of her was nothing short of admiration.

"Elena's good. She's healing, and she's on paid leave for the moment till Marcus is old enough then she's gonna start putting him in daycare and come back to the DSS." Unfortunately, Elena hadn't gotten away from Cipher unscathed. One bullet in the shoulder and a deep cut to her arm with both requiring stitches, but Luke supposed it was better than her dying. "Marcus is almost ready to start running too."

Deckard chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at Owen. He'd been eight years old when his little brother was born, and not a day went by when a part of him didn't regret pulling Owen's arse into line then and there. "Yeah, I remember what that was like."

"So?" Elizabeth whispered, sliding back further into the SUV till she could comfortably lay down with her feet dangling out the door. She propped her head up on her arms and stared at Owen's back as he seated himself in the doorway between her ankles. Funnily enough, she almost wanted the dark solace of the SUV to be hers again. Two hours ago, there were no questions inside of her and no hesitations. Now . . . Now she was stuck wondering if a child's life was worth a billion dollars. "I'm in, fine, but what the hell are we supposed to do? Deckard's going to be on our arses twenty-four seven with Hobbs and I don't fancy having him follow me to the loo every time I need to pee."

"Let's just find out where we're going first," Owen said, keeping his voice low. Reisner had taken to finding the bathroom so he could clean his face up, although the damage was minimal. She'd made him bleed without breaking anything obvious, and that knee to the bollocks — oh what he wouldn't have paid for Deckard to film that. She'd appeared to be going for Hobbs, ready to flog him half to death, and walked right past him instead. "The more we know, the easier it'll be to find Cipher."

"One of us is gonna have to leave, y'know."

Yeah, he'd figured that out several hours ago. Owen had been thinking it over, attempting to find the best outcome with the least pain involved. With Hobbs and Deckard around, along with Reisner and his team, not to mention Toretto, things would have to happen way below radar. "Don't worry about it."

"Course it will. I suppose you're Adler then, and I'm Moriarty," Elizabeth joked. She pushed herself up with her arms and turned her head slightly to the left, noticing something metallic reflecting light from beneath the seat. Was it a knife, or had one of those goons forgotten a bullet or something? She slid back further into the SUV till the toes of her boots grazed Owen's thighs and blindly reached behind her to slowly run her fingers over the carpet.

Her fingernails knocked it first, whatever it was, and Elizabeth moved her fingers slow and steady till she could feel the two sharp edges on either side. She followed the metal down to the hilt and rolled her eyes. What idiot locked two Majors and a civilian in a car and forgot to check it for weapons? How she'd missed it while laying on the floor during their journey was beside the point now. Elizabeth lifted her foot and nudged him in the ribs. It'd be easier to hide on her, given she was female, but he was the one who knew how to wield it better. "Oi, Owen."

"Yeah?"

"Stick your hand out behind you."

"You're not gonna smash it, are you?" he said. She'd pulled that trick once or twice in their youth and Owen had quickly learnt not to place blind faith in her so easily. That said, times had changed, and he leaned back, arm stretched out backwards and flattened his hand out with his palm facing the roof of the car. Something hard touched his hand and Owen hesitated before closing his fist around it. "Where'd you find that?"

"It was under the seat, and it feels like military grade too. Certainly not something I'd be carrying around."

"Deckard's?"

"I don't know, but it might come in handy if they use zipties."

Finders keepers rules applied at this moment. If they openly asked Deckard about the knife, Hobbs would know he'd come armed. If they kept quiet, Deckard would no doubt ask _them_, yet if it wasn't Deckard's, the soldier who'd somehow misplaced his blade was unlikely to go around making it known he'd allowed a weapon to fall into the hands of their quasi-enemy.

"Shove it back where you found it," Owen said, letting it go and pushing it back towards her. They didn't need the trouble that smuggling a weapon would bring. "C'mon. Let's just get this over with, then we can figure out where to go from here."

"Owen—"

He scratched the left side of his face and flinched when he hit a small sore spot. His scars still seemed tender, and if he itched them too much, he'd break through the skin and draw blood. Unfortunately Owen did that a little more often than he liked. "Please."

"It's gonna take a miracle for us to get out of this alive."

"Then I suggest you start praying to St. Dismas, Professor."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, little man, you're up early," Letty said, lifting Marcus from his bed. She'd heard him through the wall, talking to himself and playing with his toy Charger. After half an hour, she figured he wasn't going back to bed anytime soon and left Dom to his dreams. "You wanna get something to eat?"

"Yeah." Marcus yawned and nodded as he was carried downstairs to the kitchen. "Papa?"

Dom had stayed awake till half past two working on his car after Elena texted to say she'd be there by ten. Hobbs was on his way back to Los Angeles, the message said, with company. Who 'company' was, she didn't elaborate on, only that they'd talk when she got to the house. At this point, Letty wasn't sure she even wanted to know the details of Hobbs' trip to Cuba. Cipher, Hobbs, Nobody, and Company: it all added up to one hell of a potential nightmare for their family.

"Papa's sleeping so we gotta be quiet. Let's see, is it Cheerios or Cap'n Crunch today?" Letty said, cradling Marcus against her. It didn't matter that he wasn't _her_ blood, she still loved him nonetheless. The kid hadn't asked to be caught up in all this kidnap and blackmail insanity, nor any kind of custody court drama; and thank God it never came to that. She'd seen it in the papers, all those rich white families who were too stupid and lazy to fight for their relationships, dragging their kids through hell and forcing them to choose who they loved more, only to discover afterwards their kids resented them because of it. She kissed Marcus on the forehead and murmured, "Bet you're glad Papa and your Mamas are smart, huh?"

If Dom had his way, none of them would ever see the inside of a court room again, for any reason. Unless worst came to worst, Hobbs and Nobody were always a phone call away, and the Dominican Republic wasn't far either.

After pouring him a bowl of cereal and sitting him in his highchair, Letty put his favourite morning cartoons on and got herself a bowl too. With what lay ahead of them today, she'd need all her energy just to be able to stand there and listen as Hobbs once again put the weight on their shoulders. Dragging them into his and Nobody's dramas again? No, she was sick of this, sick of all of it. Why couldn't Dom have just called and said no, said he wasn't putting his wife and child in harm's way; told them he wouldn't be risking his life again for someone who claimed to have his best interests at heart yet repeatedly put him on death's doorstep every time Dom helped him without fail.

She sank into the couch and sighed, bowl in one hand and spoon in her mouth. Hair unbrushed and day old clothes stained with grease, she glanced at Marcus and smiled to herself. The days when he wasn't here, everything was quiet and peaceful, they fixed cars and worked in the reopened cafe serving not-so-crappy tuna sandwiches. One day, Dom came home and said the neighbours _loved_ Marcus. He couldn't get to Harry's without someone going ga-ga over the kid and pointing out just how much Marcus looked like his father.

The days when he was physically present in their lives, however, were a mad balancing act between excitement and work.

"Momma."

"Wh—" Letty rolled her eyes at the sight of Marcus with a trail of milk down his top. Luckily neither of them had gotten cleaned up yet. It was easier to hold off on showers and baths till after breakfast, given he was yet to learn how to wield a spoon properly. He'd get the hang of it this year, Elena said, and maybe Dom would learn how to say 'no' to Hobbs too. "We'll deal with that later."

And she did. By the time Dom woke, looking a little worse for wear, Letty had cleaned herself and Marcus up and taken him across the street to Mia and Brian's house. She left a note on the table saying as much, along with a promise that everything would be okay. God help her, Letty would be the one in charge of the team this time, not Dom. He, Elena, and Marcus were the ones in need of protection from Cipher and her ilk.

Jack and Marcus chased each other around the house, albeit slowly. Marcus could only walk so fast without losing his balance. And Sophie, well, she had much more interesting things to do than run around the house. There were cupboards not investigated and beds she'd not yet hidden beneath; she'd also discovered a door left open that was normally her proverbial undefeated Goliath.

She was the spitting image of her mom too, with dark brown hair and those warm Toretto eyes that lit up at the sight of a muscle car. Sophie hadn't yet decided whether crashing cars _into_ dolls or masterminding car wrecks in her room was more fun, but in the end it didn't matter for her. It all led to a pile of adventure on the carpet of her and Jack's room, one which she could partake in.

Dom wandered across the road after he woke to find the house empty and Letty's note on the table. Brian and Mia were sitting on the front step, and Letty was now chasing all three kids around the yard. Marcus waved but kept walking till at last he tripped and faceplanted the grass only to push himself up and begin giggling. Dom just smiled, crouched on the lawn, and opened his arms wide so Marcus could run into them if he wanted to.

"Papa!"

He grunted and fell back onto the grass when Marcus jumped on him. With the warmth of the sun on his face and a large toddler clambering up his chest, Dom felt more relaxed and at ease than he had all night. His son would be safe with Elena, he told himself, he had no doubts about her capability to protect Marcus but still he worried about her.

"You ready to go home?"

"Here." Marcus patted Dom's chest. He'd picked up a few more words over the past two weeks, enough that it seemed like he truly did understand what everyone was saying. "Home."

"I know, but Papa's gotta go drive cars." He sighed and reached up to pat Marcus's hair down as it was blown every which way by the wind. It didn't take long before Letty decided to join him on the grass and Dom found his head lifted into her lap. To some it probably seemed like a small gesture, but Letty knew how significant it was to Dom. Throughout all their years, he'd been the one to lift her, till Mexico. Then she chose to combine her weight with his and somehow carried them both, hoping that would've been their last encounter with the law, and solidifying further the level of his respect that she already had. "And Mama would kill me if I left you here alone."

_You're not wrong about that,_ she thought. Letty waved when she saw Elena in her small Nissan pull into their driveway with Marcus's seat in the back. Finally, the combination of fear and impatience that had been weighing her down since she found the note could be lifted off her chest. Before Cipher's interference in their lives, Letty might've found herself resenting what'd happened between Dom and Elena; it was fortunate then she'd felt the pain of loss and fear come Dom's sudden betrayal, and found herself understanding how much someone could need the emotional support provided by a sympathetic ear. "Should I talk to her, or do you want to do it?"

Dom lifted his head from her lap and sat upright. "This involves all of us now," he said, passing Marcus to Letty so he could get to his feet. Dom helped her up and walked over to their house with Marcus and Letty in tow. "I—" He was weak when it came to her. Dom was brave enough to admit that now. She was the most important person in his life and he couldn't lose her again. "I need you with me on this, Letty."

"You know I'll ride with you." She squeezed his free hand and smiled. "Because I'm not ready to die, you got that?"

* * *

He said nothing to any of them once things calmed down, not even Eric. Shaw separated herself from her brothers, and Deckard and Owen went outside to 'talk'. Luke found himself a canvas seat and slumped down on the netting, groaned and stretched his arms, and waited for their ride to arrive. Now that the wild goose chase was over, they could get down to business and start hunting Cipher.

For him, the last two months had been a combination of restlessness and exhaustion. With the help of a dozen mechanics and welders, Luke had pulled his car apart and enhanced it. As to whether it would hold up on the road, well, the proof was in the pudding. A newly reinforced Gurkha with runflat inserts, a protected chassis, and bulletproof windows, designed to take a hit from an RPG and keep on going, awaited him at the Toy Shop.

Once he was given an ice pack for the swelling, Eric made the call to Mr. Nobody and told him they were ready for pickup. Seated on the stairs that led to the second floor of the plane, things kept on ticking over in his head and all the pieces invariably fell apart the moment he tried connecting them. It wasn't viable to have Owen in the same room as Dom and Letty, Hobbs and their history made that clear, but he was also their meal ticket. Elizabeth had proved unwilling to play ball without the gun to his head, and Owen seemed uninterested by the righteous aspect of the mission.

Now he understood how the Shaws had gone rogue so easily. Owen was the glue that precariously held the trio together. Without him present, they would drift apart and go their separate ways. Elizabeth had shown no inclination to follow Deckard's command without incentive, nor any unwavering loyalty. He'd seen how she gravitated towards Owen, and upon hearing Hobbs' recount of how willing Deckard was to kill Toretto, Eric finally understood _Owen_ was the family's linchpin.

From a distance it made no sense, but given time and experience, he would catch on. The next few months would give him more than enough insight into the family and its inner workings, provided he survived them. Deckard was the eldest, the one keeping them in line, so it felt natural to assume he was at the center. To find Owen there instead was a surprise. It was one Eric should've seen coming after reading their files, but somehow it slipped his notice. The ops team had also chosen to save themselves the embarassment of informing him of what'd taken place when they picked the Shaws up. He hadn't asked and they weren't willing to tell anyone bar a nonjudgmental Hobbs.

"So what happens now, Fed?" Elizabeth said, breaking the silence that'd taken over the plane. Once Owen had gone outside, she'd moved to sit in the doorway of the SUV. That prayer to St. Dismus would have to wait. Her brothers not being within line of sight had left her on edge and Reisner's threats hadn't gone unheard. The fortunate thing was Hobbs' presence: he was more intimidating and ruthless than any of them. "You say 'jump' and I say 'how high, sir?'"

"Something like that." Luke fiddled with the strap that secured his revolver, clasping and unclasping it, running his fingers over the butt and trigger guard. Thankfully Mr. Nobody had said he'd arrive soon with three cars for transport of the assault team and themselves. "Who funded your life in Cuba? Two and a half years: that's a long time to go without a connect to the mob."

She shrugged. It was Cipher, she assumed. Elizabeth didn't know. She'd chosen not to ask and whomever it was never revealed themselves. Cipher seemed like the obvious answer, given she'd thrown eighteen months of her life away so the woman could get her device — till Owen fucked it all up and lost that billion dollar payout. It felt right when she thought about. Elizabeth took a dive and left Cipher indebted to her, then she freed Elizabeth from prison, supported her for a few years and repaid said debt. "I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I did eighteen months because you couldn't even manage something as simple as doing your fucking job," Elizabeth snapped. Her a liar? She couldn't tell him something she didn't know. In two and a half years, no one had ever owned up to being her benefactor, Cipher included. Being in the dark about something that was altogether unimportant in the long run didn't faze her. "I wake up one day and get escorted to a meeting room. There's a lawyer standing on the other side of the barrier and they tell me there's been a paperwork mishap, that I can finally leave. When freedom knocks, you don't ask questions."

He didn't need to know how bad things had gotten. Hell, none of this was his business either. It successfully shut Hobbs up, however. At least she thought it had. He stared at her from his seat, badge now gripped tight in his hands and sat there with a predatory stillness about him. Elizabeth stared back, teeth grit and eyes ablaze with anger. If he wanted to hear it, she'd tear him a new one and send his arse back to whatever secret government lab he'd been born in.

"I was there because I was doing my job." Hobbs shook his head in disgust and stood. Someone had a temper and it certainly wasn't him. How the four of them were expected to work together and function as a coherent team seemed more and more like an impossible feat with each passing minute. It'd been on Mr. Nobody's insistence that they go to Cuba in the first place; given their poor odds of success, it felt right to come up empty-handed. "You could've flipped and ended it before he got on that plane. We would've taken Owen down and stopped Cipher before it even came to this."

Of course it was on her. He'd been the one wasting his time in Russia, knowing full well the odds of her becoming a traitor were slim to none, yet Hobbs had insisted on going after her instead of Owen. "And then you went after my brother and 'did your job' again, and this time you _murdered_ my friend. She died alone in a ditch and you're the bastard that put her there!"

It would've come out eventually. All the pain, the anger; the explosion that came with bottling up her emotions. She'd taken to laying on the floor of the SUV for the duration of the flight so her brothers wouldn't notice her bottom lip trembling, or her reddened eyes. And it'd worked. Her feigned apathy and acceptance had kept the façade up long enough for her to make it to their destination without falling apart. It'd taken Owen all of two minutes to tell her the who, what, and how, of Riley's death, but it would take her far longer than that to process and grieve.

Luke frowned when she walked away with the last word. He'd killed her friend? More than one life had been lost in the process of catching the Shaws. It wasn't as if the faces of those he killed became lodged in his mind; after the first few times Luke found himself confronted with death as a part of his job, he began to realise the faces blurred together. Only some stood out, not counting the losses he'd experienced himself. If she expected him to be able to remember every death that could possibly be laid at his feet, they'd be here till sunset.

"What did you tell her while I was asleep?" Deckard said, looking towards the plane. It wasn't hard to hear the rage in her voice, or the heavy footsteps that followed. She stormed down the ramp and past them, eyes welling with tears and fists clenched. For a moment there was even a pang of sympathy in his chest as he shoved his fists in his pockets and resisted the urge to smack his brother upside the head. "Jesus, Owen, you told her about Spain, didn't you?"

"It was either that or play twenty questions." He knew how to manipulate her, which buttons to push so she'd think with her heart instead of her head. Her penchant for logic and rationality were a problem when Owen needed her pissed off and ready for war. Isolating her was merely the fastest way of getting her in that desired state of mind. "If I didn't tell her, she'd never be able to focus. She'd sit there thinking about going back instead of the here and now, and she'd leave a hundred voicemails on Riley's cell wondering where she is."

"I thought you said Ortiz did it," Deckard hissed. This was the last thing they needed. If she walked away now, they'd be a man down and he didn't want to be spending a week finding someone with the same skill set. "Did you even think about it before you—"

"Same difference." He wasn't in the mood to argue semantics. Not with Beth, and certainly not with Deckard. All Owen wanted was to get this ridiculous mission over and done with and return to London before they realised his offshore bank accounts were brimming with cash. "He gave her the weapon and Letty fired it. Hobbs was as much involved as anyone."

"And what if she leaves?"

"She won't."

That's what he thought. Deckard had seen her walk away plenty of times. The morning of her eighteenth birthday, she'd gotten on that plane to Russia and never looked back; why did Owen think the result of this would be any different? "I wouldn't be so sure of that. Now you can go be the sympathetic ear and caring brother while I tell Hobbs you just potentially screwed the mission before it's even begun."

_Or_ they could sit back and watch the fireworks. Keeping a divide in place could only work in his favour. Feds vs. criminals, the British versus the Americans: so long as someone was given enemies to fight against, or perceived an enemy in some form or another, they had focus and drive. Take that away and most people became aimless spectators on the sidelines, imbeciles who only got in the way. Given her lack of military experience and training, Owen didn't want to see her become one of the liabilities he'd find himself ready to discard at a moment's notice.

"Deckard, you wanna tell me what the hell that was about?" Luke said, walking down the ramp with Eric. He'd called Nobody again and found out the cars were only a few minutes away, which meant it was time to start getting their shit together and play happy families. "Is she going to be a problem or can you get a handle on her?"

"I'll sort it, Hobbs," Deckard said, giving Owen an 'I'll deal with you later' look. "You just worry about selling this plan to Toretto."


	8. Chapter 8

"Who was your friend?"

Elizabeth looked back at Hobbs, wary of engaging him any further. Despite the assurance of Owen's presence, and Deckard's, she was still in enemy territory without a guaranteed escape route. After Owen's attempted placations and reminders that they needed to get along, Hobbs putting himself in the ring was the last thing she'd expected. "Excuse me?"

"Your friend. The one you said I killed." Luke walked past Deckard and ignored his silent protests, gave the situation not a single thought, and planted himself right between Owen and his sister. "What was her name?"

"Special Agent Riley Hicks."

_Oh._ Luke fell silent, staring at Shaw with a mixture of unease and sympathy. A piece of him genuinely felt sorry for her. She'd lost a friend, someone she was close to by the look of it, and now she was being forced to work with the people who'd tried to destroy her family and ruin her life. "I'm sorry. She was a good agent."

"Yeah, she was," Elizabeth muttered. She turned away from Hobbs, focusing on the clouds of dust being kicked up in the distance. The less she thought about Riley and everything Owen had told her, the better — at least for the moment. Everything inside her was being torn apart and scattered in so many directions that the only thing Beth could do was focus on what was right in front of her: the mission. Find Cipher, take what they were owed, and get the hell out of Dodge before these government lackeys changed their minds. "Now she's dead and that's something I can't fix."

If a situation needed fixing, she did what she could; if someone needed fixing, she asked for more information and then tried to help. Unfortunately reversing the effects of death in people was a little outside her skill set. You couldn't switch out a capacitor, solder a couple wires, and turn someone back on like you could a radio or TV.

"How long did you know her for?" Luke asked. One look at Owen's face told him everything: Shaw was pissed. Deckard said he'd handle it and while Luke trusted his word, he didn't trust his ability to wrangle his manipulative psychopath of a brother into line.

"Long enough to realise she had piss poor taste in men."

Deckard and Owen spoke at the same time and wore the exact same irritated look. "Beth!"

"Vsyo pizdets." Everything's fucked up. She hoped Owen would realise that sometime soon. This entire situation was more messed up than she'd anticipated and the longer she stood there thinking about it, the longer Elizabeth's mind would spin in circles like a broken compass. Her loyalties were torn, she told herself, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about that till she learnt where they lay.

"They're here," Eric announced as two sedans drove through an electric side gate. They were large, bulletproof, and the only things he could use to separate the Shaws from one another. Whichever car Owen got in would be temporarily diverted before it reached Nowhere, but the one he hoped would contain the other two Shaws would go straight to the facility they'd be calling home for the next few months. "The second you get in those cars, you work for us. That means the past is left where it belongs, understood, Miss Volkova?"

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Her right foot tapped the sand-covered concrete runway, kicking up a tiny dust cloud, while she focused on the horizon. "I know what professionalism entails, thank you. You might want to explain what it is to Hobbs though."

The cars pulled up, one behind the other, and Luke finally allowed himself to relax. His shoulders dropped, his spine loosened, and his hand stopped resting on his revolver. "You just keep on running your mouth, Shaw, see where it gets you."

"I'm hoping for Cuba. I quite liked it there." Elizabeth felt the weight of the door as she pulled it open, could see the thickness of the glass windows that'd been perfectly fitted into place. The dashboard, on the other hand, was a cluttered mess of lights and tech, and behind it would undoubtedly be a veritable nightmare of circuits and wiring. "Wow."

Luke climbed in after her and took a seat facing the door. Deckard stepped in after them and Eric shut the door behind him, leaving Owen standing outside the sedan. From where Luke sat, he didn't look too impressed. Eric gestured to the other sedan but Owen appeared to be refusing to budge.

Elizabeth gripped the headrests of the driver and passenger seats and leaned forward, eyeing what appeared to be a small screen with a map on it and an array of buttons along the side. The embellished logo on the bottom right corner of the screen's casing simply read 'GRC'. She gestured to it with one finger and asked, "Is that a—"

"Yes it is." The driver kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the windscreen. "And no, you can't touch it."

Deckard watched Owen and Little Nobody argue through the window for a few seconds longer before making a decision. The downside was what happened next would piss Hobbs off, but the upside meant nobody would be getting killed anytime soon. "Beth."

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to Hobbs in private. You mind stepping out?"

"I thought we were meant to be leaving,"

"We will. I just need to talk to Hobbs."

"Christ," Beth muttered, rolling her eyes as she eased herself back and toward the door. What had happened to Deckard over the past two years? Cooperating with the government when you were a soldier was one thing, and the Secret Intelligence Service another, but Elizabeth had never thought Deckard would toe the line and play nice with Feds. "Sure. Have your 'talk'. I'll be outside."

"Sit your ass down, Shaw. Whatever your brother needs to say, he can say in front of you."

She gave Hobbs a wary look before pushing open the door and stepping out. Whatever Deckard wanted to say wasn't worth hearing, and whatever Hobbs thought he'd achieve by trying to befriend her wasn't going to happen. "I think I'll just ride with Owen."

"Is there a problem?" Eric said, looking past Owen as he heard the footsteps. He'd expected to see Hobbs, not her. Owen's presence had already placed him on edge but now faced with two Shaws, Eric's heart was beginning to pound harder and his pupils had dilated. Every muscle in his body began to tense while the most basic human instinct of 'fight or flight' became a nagging thought in the back of his mind. "We're leaving in two minutes."

"Family." Elizabeth shrugged. "What can you do? Deckard wants to talk to Hobbs 'in private', which is Shaw-speak for 'I bend the knee to whomever holds my leash'."

"Are you done?" Owen snapped. All these years she'd been judging them without having seen a tenth of what they had. Elizabeth didn't know the first thing about being a soldier, about loyalty that wasn't based on something as fickle as DNA, but still she stood there and acted as if choosing to be nothing but the dirt under someone's heel was a better option. "Let's go. We're wasting time."

* * *

"If anything happens, call me," Letty said. She and Dom both kissed Marcus on the head once more before reluctantly allowing Elena to strap him into his car seat. He wriggled and fought but the moment he realised he wasn't going anywhere, Marcus settled down and started swinging his legs instead.

"I will." Elena shook Letty's hand then hugged her tight. Her plane would be leaving for Virginia in three hours which gave her enough time to go home, grab their luggage and get to the airport. Once she was on the east coast, Hobbs' connections would help her disappear for as long as required. "Stay safe. Both of you. Marcus needs his parents."

"Any word from Hobbs?"

"Not since he confirmed they landed." He'd sent her a text message that read 'I'm home' and nothing more. No phone call, no voicemail. Perhaps Luke was just trying to keep below Cipher's radar, or he was simply having _issues_ with their new guests. Whatever the reason, Elena wanted to hear his voice just that once more; a reassurance he was alive and not under duress. "And that was half an hour ago."

"You know what Hobbs is like," Dom said, attempting to placate her. She was always worried about them — all of them — and that didn't seem to be something that'd change any time soon. He hugged Elena, not wanting to waste another moment, then she climbed in her car and started it up. "We'll be here when you come back. And the barbeque will be smoking the moment you pull into the driveway."

Elena nodded, hands gripping the wheel tightly as Dom and Letty stepped back from the car. "Watch your backs. We don't know where Cipher is and I don't trust the Shaws not to take advantage of the situation."

"What do you mean?" Letty asked. How could they possibly take advantage of a situation when Nobody and Hobbs were watching them? Let alone _why_ would they take advantage of it? "Has Owen said something?"

It wasn't easy for Dom to hear how casually she said his name. He understood it was a piece of Letty's past, that she'd seen and done things while affected by amnesia, but Dom had hoped she'd put it all behind her now. If Shaw's presence dredged up old feelings and conflicted emotions then in all likelihood Letty would be hurt and it'd be him helping her pick up the pieces, not Shaw. "What more could they want? They already tried to kill us."

"I don't know. I just have this feeling something's going to happen, Dom, and it's going to be bad."

Dom didn't want to say it aloud but Elena was right. They were about to go after Cipher with former enemies as their allies. Something was bound to go wrong. "If we don't find her after six months, we'll walk away." Better that than being killed, Dom decided. "I promise."

"Okay." Saying 'goodbye' sounded too permanent. Elena wasn't leaving Los Angeles forever, after all. This was just an extended vacation, not a departure. "I'll see you when it's over."

Dom stepped back when Elena took off and slipped his arm around Letty's waist. He needed the reassurance of her presence, her touch; she was that part of his life which grounded him and helped him stay sane. "Our son's safe," he said, mostly to himself. "That's all that matters.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Tej's voice came through loud and clear as the webcam feed finally stopped being pixelated. In the background, Ramsey was typing away on her laptop and Roman was leaning his head in and out of the camera's view. "Y'all wanna go after Cipher even though we nearly got killed last time."

"That's crazy, man." Roman shoved his head in front of Tej's and stared at the camera. "What part of the last four years don't you remember? The part where those people tried to kill us, where they blew up Dom's house, or the part where Hobbs ended up in a hospital bed 'cause Shaw walked a bomb into a federal building. Nuh-uh. I can't do it, Brian. What happens if they turn on us, or Cipher starts her whole blackmail bullshit again?"

"What he means to say is he's scared of the crazy white chick."

"Damn straight," Roman muttered, looking at Tej. "And you ain't?"

"We seized her plane, didn't we?" Ramsey spoke up, closing the lid of her laptop and walking towards the desk Tej was sitting at. That fact had been in the back of her mind since learning Cipher's plane still sat in a hangar somewhere on the planet. If they could use it themselves, utilise the tech, this hunt would go a lot more smoothly than Roman thought. "Let's use it. We'd have to reconfigure some of it so she can't hack back in but they never destroyed it, did they?"

"No. No planes. Brian, tell her we are not getting on that plane."

"It's actually a pretty good idea," Tej said. "Cipher would have a hard time tracking us if we flew it."

It'd been hard enough finding Cipher when she'd been flying the damn thing. It'd been Deckard who'd put two and two together and done the math for them, although the truth was they'd always been tracking Dom, not Cipher. Now they had to either up their game or get left behind while she ran circles around them.

"Brian, man, _please_."

"We'll figure it out when you guys get here tomorrow." Once the teams were assembled, they'd talk it out. Organising a job like this required time, patience, and forethought. Using Cipher's plane or utilising whatever tech was left on-board wouldn't do them any good if their plans failed at the onset. "And I mean tomorrow."

"So where's my boy at?" Roman clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Uncle Rome's got a surprise for Jack."

"He's busy off being a kid."

"I don't even get to say hello?"

"You can see him when you get here, Rome."

"Alright. You just make sure he's not sleeping when I do. It's been a while since I saw the little man."

"Sure. Look, I gotta go. It's almost time to feed the hoard."

"Tell Mia and Letty I said 'hey', will you?"

Ramsey's voice was the last thing Brian heard before he killed the feed and unplugged the webcam. If it wasn't plugged in then it couldn't be hacked which made a lot more sense than just putting tape over the lens. Brian pushed back on his wheelie chair and slid away from the desk. He turned himself around then stood and flopped onto the bed face down. "Mia," he yelled, voice muffled by the sheets, "Ramsey says 'hey'."

"Tell her I said 'hey' back."

Being a go-between wasn't his ideal job. Brian had hated it when he was a cop and it'd been worse when he made the switch and began to work for the FBI. Luckily for him, he was only relaying messages between Dom, Hobbs and the others while Tej refused to use his phone. Something about potential taps and unsecure channels — the amount of jargon that came flying out of Tej's mouth these days was truly astonishing. "I will."

* * *

"I don't think they cleaned this thing out after they dumped the last corpse." Elizabeth rested her head against the window and stared out at their desert surroundings as the two car convoy continued driving away from the airfield. According to Little Nobody, they'd been driving for twenty minutes already. God only knew how long it would actually take to get to wherever they were going. "Or maybe it's the stench of the soon-to-be-dead."

Owen turned and looked over the top of Eric's head. Little Nobody had found himself unfortunately shoved between the siblings as a very real, very physical divider. It'd been Hobbs' last minute suggestion. The upside was they couldn't reach each other, the downside was Eric paid very little attention to what was occurring either side of him. "You're scaring the kid, Beth. Shut your eyes and go to sleep."

"Good. He should be scared." Elizabeth sighed and focused on the scratches on the glass. It wouldn't take them too long to reach the facility, would it? If they headed west, eventually they'd hit cities and ocean — neither of which were prime locations. Going east would only lead to sand, and more sand, so south or north it was. They had two directions, two choices, and not a single clue as to their destination.

Sand continued to blow against the windows and slowly but surely Owen's suggestion became reality. Beth found herself wishing she had a travel pillow, or maybe just a jacket to fold up and put around her neck as support, while the uncomfortable yet rhythmic movements of the sedan travelling over rough terrain helped her to close her eyes and clear her mind. Her thoughts shifted to a single focus, finding Cipher, while everything else became relaxed and calm.

Before she knew it, it was early afternoon and they'd arrived at the facility. Elizabeth awoke to find herself surrounded by blooming trees and buildings with absolutely no one in sight. No matter which direction she looked, the place was devoid of life. There were trees, birds, but no people. No cars. No sign anyone worked here at all.

"How much farther?" Owen queried. The past three hours and forty-seven minutes had been peaceful. With no fighting or threats and no one to speak to, he'd allowed himself to think and plan, to engage with and wrestle a strategy. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind was the key to pulling this off, only it was both buried and concealed under years of training so he couldn't just pluck it free with ease. "Surely we're close now."

Eric gestured at the metal and glass office buildings they were passing and wondered if they were the architect's failed attempts at modernism. Everything here was for show but it still unnerved him that you could just as easily get lost here as you could in Los Angeles. He'd once spent an entire two hours walking around before having to radio security so he could find his way back to the main building. "It shouldn't be much longer. Strictly speaking, we entered the facility back there. This is all just...decoration."

"It's an undisclosed Air Force base, isn't it?" That would explain the size, Owen thought, and why they were so far from anywhere. It made sense if the government had built it without telling anyone and disguised it as a large business area. The roads wound between buildings yet he had a sense there were markers somewhere telling the drivers they were going in the right direction. The GPS screen Elizabeth had noticed was now a black screen with the words 'no signal' written on it. "Is this where you're keeping Cipher's plane?"

"No and no. It was meant to be part of a new suburb." _Think on your feet. Explain but don't go into detail. He'll know you're lying._ Why had he said Air Force and not Army, Eric wondered. Had Shaw noticed something? Seen the concealed runway in the distance? This whole place was in fact an old unused Air Force base, isolated and perfect for their needs. Another in a long line of Area 51s without the UFOs or conspiracy theories attached. "They tried to gentrify the area but I guess rich people don't like missing out on their ocean views."


	9. Chapter 9

The door creaked and groaned under its own weight as Owen pushed it open before he stepped from the car and shut the door behind him with a heavy thump. They were in an empty parking lot at the northern end of the compound. Apart from the wind and the low rumble of their sedan idling, all signs of life had either been concealed or erased Surrounded by only empty buildings, the silence that came with a lack of human activity was nothing short of eerie.

"What is this place really?" Owen asked. "A training facility? This isn't some abandoned suburb."

Everything around them was far too neat and pristine. The exact opposite of what he expected to find if this truly was just some rich suburb left behind in favour of the coast. All the construction was finished, the roads smooth without any sign of wear and tear. And in this area alone, there were three security cameras poorly concealed on the buildings surrounding them.

"Where's Hobbs and my brother?" Elizabeth walked around the car, searching for any sign of the second sedan. At some point they'd been split up. Perhaps Deckard's car had taken one branch of a road and theirs the other. "You wouldn't be trying to pull something, would you?"

Eric shook his head and gestured to a large warehouse to their immediate west. That was their real destination; everything else was only meant to serve as a decoy. "They're already inside."

Inside that, she wondered, or some secret facility beneath it? No government could be trusted when they illegally renditioned people on a whim and flew them halfway around the world. Why else would Hobbs and his friends send armed bastards to collect the children of an old woman if not due to a lack of legitimacy?

"So why are we out here?"

"I wanted to lay down some ground rules."

Rules? That was cute. He actually expected they'd listen to him. Elizabeth hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and started walking towards the warehouse. Owen promptly caught up to her, slipped his arm around her shoulders and kept to a somewhat casual pace.

"Shaw!" Shit. What was it with these people and refusing to play by the rules? "Volkova!"

"How many cameras did you notice?" she asked, voice low, glancing around as they walked. It was probably a good thirty minute run to the gate they'd entered via. Once they were allowed more freedom, Elizabeth would seize the opportunity to better scope the place out, but for now the easiest exit was going directly south and jumping the wire fence. "This place is a maze."

"Three back there, another up ahead. And I've a feeling that's the point." If they checked every inch of the facility, Owen didn't doubt the number of cameras would exceed a hundred. "You're going to have to put in some hours on the treadmill and be charming before they let you out here."

"I can do charming." For some reason, men often seemed to mistake being nice or competitive with flirting. Just because a woman smiled at someone didn't mean she wasn't imagining the many ways she could flog them. "But you'll have to approach Deckard. If I start asking him what he noticed, he's gonna clam up."

"Over here!" Eric opened a large metal side door and gestured to them. Every time he thought he'd caught up to them, the pair managed to put some more distance between themselves and him. After the first three minutes, he switched his focus from eavesdropping to getting ahead of them and getting inside. "Hey, guys!"

"What?" Elizabeth said, shielding her eyes with one hand. She could almost smell how fresh Reisner was. The guy wasn't completely inexperienced but he still lacked that necessary wariness when dealing with the criminal type. "It's a nice day and I was stuck in that car all night. Can't I take a walk?"

"After the briefing. Maybe."

"See?" She nudged Owen and smiled. "He likes me already."

"No." Owen eyed Little Nobody as he stood in the doorway, waiting and watching them. Unarmed and tense, he was a rabbit caught in the sight lines of wolves. "He's scared of you."

"Even better. He'll leave us alone."

"Get your asses inside." Luke stepped past Eric and looked the Shaws dead in the eye. Whatever delay tactics they were using were about to be quashed. "And stop screwing around. We need to talk."

Hobbs wanted them to _talk._ Well that certainly sounded interesting. Elizabeth pulled away from Owen and sat on a low concrete wall that lined the edge of a garden bed. "Then let's talk out here."

"Fine." Luke wasn't going to start a fight over something as simple as where they stood. He would certainly be cautious, however. If he played Shaw's game for too long, followed _her_ rules, he'd soon find himself on a slippery slope that potentially led to him losing sight of the mission. "Owen, go fetch your brother."

He went inside without a word and immediately found himself face to face with Deckard. Whatever was going on in his brother's head couldn't be good. That cold, dead look in Deckard's eye was one Owen had seen numerous times. It said he was all but ready to burn everything to the ground no matter the cost.

The day the military arrived at his house and told him his Victoria Cross had been forfeited because of his actions, Deckard had worn that expression. Owen imagined it wouldn't have been much different the day Deckard received the call from the hospital either, or the day a closed court passed sentence on their sister.

"You alright?"

"I'm sick of this." Deckard's jaw was clenched and his sleeves barely contained his biceps. Every inch of him radiated anger and tension while he struggled to distract himself with something. "They came to Mum's house with guns. Showed up in government cars and dragged us off... I just want Cipher dead and this whole thing over with."

Owen nodded in sympathy and rubbed the back of his neck, flinching at the sting of his nails against his scarred skin. There wasn't much to be said when Deckard was like this. They'd both been dishonourably discharged, stripped of rank and medals, their reputations besmirched. The funny thing was no one had ever asked 'why'. The hierarchy only cared for what they'd done, not the reasoning behind their actions. "Me too."

He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in them, but Deckard had a feeling the process would require a punching bag, not a massage. He looked over Owen's shoulder at the open door and frowned, noticing nothing but a warm breeze was coming through it. "Where's Hobbs gone?"

"Beth refused to budge so he wants to talk to us outside."

"Course she did." A stubborn pain in the arse was how he'd described her since the day they'd met. Knowing his luck, her refusal was also based on some kind of exit strategy. Deckard had already begun to form his own on the way in. "I guess we should go play happy families then."

Owen raised his eyebrows as if to say 'happy?' but followed Deckard outside without protest. If they stirred up the hornet's nest too soon, it was going to be impossible to leave the grounds without an armed escort. Better to play along than push their luck, he thought.

In his peripheral vision, Luke watched the pair approach then began to speak. "So here's how this whole thing is going to work."

Elizabeth smiled at Hobbs and leaned back on the wall. She'd tried to play him and he'd called her bluff. To say she was surprised would've been an understatement, yet it was clear the man hadn't changed a bit since their first encounter in Moscow.

"Weapons will be issued for practice and missions only, and I'm pretty sure you two don't need any time on the range to brush up on your accuracy. If either of you get a clear shot at her, take it."

This was a kill mission? Beth sat upright and angled her body forward, listening intently to Hobbs' words as he continued. She'd told Magdalene she wasn't going to allow her to kill Cipher, and those pesky morals of hers that said murder was wrong still stood firm now. If Cipher died, she would never get what she wanted. The moment Cipher's heart stopped beating, all that money would disappear and the bank accounts would be closed; every asset and share liquidated.

"If Toretto walks away, that's his call. He's got Marcus to protect," Luke continued. "But I'm finishing this mission one way or another. I don't know if you've ever heard the phrase 'ride or die' but that's exactly what we're doing."

He hadn't signed up to die, Owen thought. Yet if Hobbs was this focused on stopping Cipher then maybe flying under his radar would be easier than expected. "I understand you want justice for what happened to your partner but you've never been face to face with her, Hobbs. She's a whole new breed of psychotic and 'ride or die' isn't going to cut it."

"I think we can handle Cipher," Eric protested. "We did it before with less numbers than we have now. Right, Hobbs?"

His partner? Jesus. What exactly had Cipher been doing? Elizabeth swallowed and shifted her attention to the pavement beneath her feet. That phrase 'ride or die', however they put it, sounded like a quick and guaranteed way to get them all killed. You couldn't just throw yourself at Cipher and hope she didn't see you coming. "What exactly does that entail?"

Deckard ran a hand back over his scalp and looked everyone bar Elizabeth in the eye. There were numerous ways to explain it but only one rang true for their situation. "It means we don't go home until it's over."

The looks on their faces told her they weren't joking. Ride or die? What kind of overzealous selfish crap was that? Throwing your life away was one thing but asking a complete stranger to do it as well was ridiculous. "I need to take a walk."

Deckard took a cautious step towards her. "Beth—"

"Don't!" Her voice cracked, pitch skewing high and accent wavering. Elizabeth slid off the concrete wall and started walking north, away from the four of them. "Just — Just don't."

"And you thought telling her about Riley would cause problems," Owen muttered. It had taken her long enough to realise what would be required of her, but it seemed those three words had brought her fears to the surface. Now she finally understood what was at stake if they didn't get the job finished sooner rather than later.

"I know it's asking a lot." Luke was on her ass without hesitation, matching her pace. She'd willingly put herself in prison all those years ago and now here he was asking her to place her own neck — her life — on the line. "Believe me, I understand. I have a daughter."

"That's nice." He just didn't stop, did he? She'd refused him back then and even now Hobbs was still determined to see her change sides. It was more complicated than before, Elizabeth acknowledged. The threat wasn't him and his team of elites knocking on her door. It was something bigger. Something a lot more terrifying than a federal agent with a badge and a gun.

"Anna."

"Don't call me that." _You haven't earned the right._ She ducked down a small gap between two buildings, moving sideways so her shoulders wouldn't scrape the walls. There was nowhere for her to run out here, or hide. Motion detectors had likely been installed inside every building, Elizabeth figured. Cameras too. Why else have extremely lax security?

_Goddamn it._ Luke sucked in his stomach and squeezed down the passageway. His own shoulders grazed the walls with each step while he forced himself to shuffle faster, trying to catch up with her. "I'm not going to tell you to do it for your brothers."

Little Nobody had tried invoking his daughter once, on his first and only day in that U-Max prison, and he'd quickly learnt not to do it again. "Whatever you decide," he said, "it needs to be about you."

About _her_? Maybe he hadn't noticed it but when it came down to it, she was nothing short of disposable. "You really don't get it, do you?" she replied, glancing back at him as she stepped out from between the two buildings. "It's never been about me before and that's not going to change now."

"You're not their knight in shining armour, Shaw. The responsibility isn't on your shoulders." He understood the sentiment. His brothers, his sister — back when they were young, Luke had found himself trying to carry their burdens too. It'd taken till he was old enough to join the DSS for him to realise all that weight wasn't his to bear. "They made their own mistakes and they can suffer the consequences of them."

"What do you want, Hobbs?" He had to want something. Every man did. Whether it was political, financial or sexual, men always had their eye on a prize. Some kind of reward to motivate them towards acting like decent human beings instead of the scum of the earth. "You keep pressing the issue but it's gotten you nowhere."

That wasn't true at all, Luke thought. It had gotten him time alone with her, away from any unwanted and corrupt influences. Now it appeared it was time to change tact and really put the cards on the table. "I can't give you back your old life."

"But?"

"I can offer you a new one."

"What makes you think I want a new life?"

"You hoarded cash and papers in your apartment, worked under the radar and lived week to week. People who live normal lives don't do that. You were hiding from someone." Running was another possibility but Luke doubted that was it. If Shaw had been running, he never would've found her. She'd have dug a hole so deep as to conceal her presence completely. "And you went to all that effort only to get kidnapped by your own mother."

"_Their_ mother." Not once in her entire life had she consciously thought of Magdalene Shaw as her mother. The woman had cared for her, raised her, but the only mother she'd ever known was buried in a cemetery somewhere in Moscow, in a grave she knew nothing about. "Get to the point, Fed."

"You can't keep hiding for the rest of your life."

Hobbs really didn't have a clue, did he? Or perhaps he was just playing stupid to get her to talk. If he poked her enough, maybe he thought she'd lose her temper. It was a pity she wasn't the same woman he'd met in Moscow or she would've pulled the knife from her bra and slid it right between his ribs. On the other hand, a quick death was just too good for Hobbs. "Have you said your piece yet?"

"No."

What else could he possibly need to say? Perhaps Hobbs hadn't been paying attention but she didn't want silver platters or 'get out of jail free' cards from some wanker in a suit. With a single call to the right number, Elizabeth could have all that and more. "Too bad, because I have no interest in hearing more."

"Riley died because she chose your brother over her own life." Shaw's stance changed in a second. She clenched her fists tightly, pushed herself up on her toes and almost frothed at the mouth as she stared him down. It wasn't the exact reaction Luke had been hoping for but it was something. "Whatever you do, don't make the same mistakes she did."

"It wasn't her choices that got her killed. It was Owen's." He'd taken some Jeep instead of a hypercar, allowed the Antonov to drop below takeoff speed. And somehow the ramp had even been left open despite him and Riley already being onboard. Perhaps if Owen had taken Cipher's advice and planned accordingly, all the death and destruction could've been avoided. "Owen was told what to do and how to do it. He chose to go against the plan."

The plan? If Shaw had known what was meant to happen in Spain, it was possible her involvement had run deeper than he'd first thought. Interesting. This was the first time she'd let something slip and all Luke had done was push her. "That's because he's arrogant."

At least they agreed on something. Elizabeth nodded slightly before lowering her feet and turning to walk away. It was funny how the pieces came together when you were able to speak to someone other than yourself. Despite the details and guarantees that Cipher had provided, Owen had chosen to change routes, change escape plans. If the past was any indication of what her brother's future actions might be, Owen would go against the plan again and she would be the one cleaning up the mess he left behind.

"Shaw."

There were only so many times he could ask the same questions before surely even he got bored of this never-ending circle. "What?"

"Why were you meeting her in Santa Clara?"

"You're going to have to be more specific." Maybe Hobbs had figured it out, or maybe he was just blindly throwing darts and hoping to get lucky. The worst case scenario was they had a still from an isolated security camera of her sitting at a café drinking coffee and eating Tres Leches cake opposite a woman with black hair and blue eyes. The best scenario had the still showing a blonde. "Sofya? Sasha? Masha? Baba Yaga?"

"Cipher."

Elizabeth chuckled and said, "I haven't seen her in years."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"It might be, but good luck proving that. You have nothing, Fed."

He had no leads, no clues, no sign Cipher was even in the States. Just how many countries had Hobbs chased Owen across before catching him, she wondered, and how many was he willing to traverse till he caught Cipher?

"I have your family and a prison awaiting them."

Prison wasn't much of a threat. They'd be out within a week, maybe two. One phone call was all it would take for the ball to get rolling. Hobbs didn't get it, did he? He wasn't the big bad wolf anymore. It didn't matter what threats he made because there was nothing to fear from him or his friends.

At least that's what Elizabeth kept telling herself. Her stomach twisted into knots at the mention of her family. Maybe she was just jumping to the worst case scenario but it didn't matter, did it? Hobbs hadn't specified if 'family' referred only to her brothers, or if he'd grabbed their parents as well. Whatever the answer, she was going to have to tread carefully from now on.

"You really need to work on that sales pitch, Hobbs. One minute it's 'do it for yourself' and the next it's 'do it for your brothers'." Just how many times was he going to give the same speech with a different angle? Hobbs had just asked her to put her life on the line then swung back to threatening her when she didn't bend. "It's a bad game of table tennis and no one's scoring any points."

"Then stop being such a pain in my ass and pick a side. Either you help us take Cipher down or you don't."

She was — God, could he hear himself? "You still haven't noticed what's important, have you?"

"And what's that?"

"You're still breathing." Beth reached under her shirt, slipped the combat knife free of her bra, and shoved it flat against his chest with the blade facing down. "And I'm still standing here."


	10. Chapter 10

"So Hobbs thinks we just gon' roll up on Cipher, grab her, and drop her ass off at the nearest prison."

"That's exactly what we're gonna do." Tej gave Roman one of his 'I have a plan' smiles. Sometimes you had to do exactly what the enemy expected so as to not get blown up later. Well, maybe not a plan per se but he had a couple ideas, but those were still based on guesswork and crossed fingers.

"You know it's not going to be that simple." Ramsey looked at Tej and sighed in exasperation. Was this his ego talking or had he just forgotten what'd happened in Vladovin? Although Dom _was_ on their side this time, nothing about the mission suggested it would play out that easily.

"It's better than sitting around waiting for her to come to us." Letty allowed herself a glance at Dom, hunched over the kitchen table with Brian, sheet upon sheet of schematics and maps laid out before them. He hadn't said a word all day to anyone but Brian except for a casual 'Hey' to the team when they arrived. Instead of meeting them at the airport as planned, Dom had texted them to say they could make their own way to the house. "We can't afford to waste time if we're going to survive this thing."

Letty had a point. Tej couldn't deny that. They were all talking as if they were scared of what was coming next, he thought. Like improvisation wouldn't keep them alive as it had the past few years. Even he'd gotten sucked into admitting he wasn't confident in their chances of survival. "You saw what Jakande had coming out of that bus, right? Take that and make it a hundred times worse."

"Yes, Tej, I remember." But did he? That'd been Jakande, not Cipher. The difference wasn't a big one, but Cipher's only real weapon during their previous encounter had been Dom. Other than him, Cipher hadn't thrown much of anything their way (not counting the submarine). "But worrying about her artillery is pointless if we don't know where she is."

"Hey, Letty, you got a minute?" Mia asked, leaning over the stair railing. "I need to talk to you about something."

Thank God. She'd needed an escape from the team. Everyone's egos had been progressively inflating as they talked about plans and that kind of shit led to people getting hurt. It was something Owen Shaw had warded off with his 'show them the respect they deserve or it weakens us' spiel, not that it'd mattered in the end. Half of Shaw's team had ended up dead in Spain and who knew how many survived afterwards.

"What's up?" Letty unclenched her fists and jaw, pushed off the couch and followed Mia upstairs. "Is something wrong?"

Mia shook her head and sat on the edge of Dom and Letty's bed before flopping backwards. She stretched her legs out, feet dangling off the edge. "No. Just wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm—" She collapsed onto the mattress next to Mia and rubbed her temples. Letty rolled over to face her and immediately found herself on the receiving end of a serious look. It was as if Mia were saying 'are you really gonna lie to me?'. "Fuck, I don't know. This whole thing is just messing with my head. The last thing I ever wanted was to be in the same room as _him_ again."

"Because he's hot and you liked him or because you want to kick his ass?"

"Both, maybe. That guy scares the shit out of me, Mia. He was ruthless, killed so many people . . . and he was efficient. The way we completed jobs, we were in and out in under two minutes."

"And what about that other thing?"

Mia was going to have to be more specific because Letty didn't have a damn clue which 'thing' she meant. "Um?"

"Your period, idiot." Mia flicked her lightly in the head. They didn't often get to hang out like this anymore, but Mia was enjoying the moment right now. It felt familiar, safe. Comfortable. "It's been two months since your last one, right?"

Oh. That. She'd kind of pushed that knowledge to the back of her mind and left it there. Dealing with Marcus, with Dom, the cafe slash grocer and garage and everything else life threw at her, was more than enough for her to handle. The last thing Letty wanted was anyone getting ideas about her being pregnant.

"If it doesn't happen in the next two weeks, I promise I'll go to a drug store and get one of those piss sticks."

"Or you could just be getting old." The shit-eating grin on Mia's face lit up her eyes and earned her a hard shove. "Next thing you know, you'll be having hot flashes and having to take hormone pills."

"Shut up, man, I'm not _that_ old."

"You kinda look it." Mia gestured to Letty's hair. "You know I think you've got some greys coming through. Might be time to ask your abuela for some tips on how to dye them."

"Uh-huh. You had your fun now?" Letty pushed Mia back down into the mattress the moment she tried to sit up. It really was starting to sink in now. The distance, the danger, the isolation — who the hell was she going to talk to besides Ramsey? It was fine for Dom, he'd have Brian, and Rome would have Little Nobody; Ramsey would have Tej too. Letty couldn't just sit there and spill her guts to fucking Hobbs or Mr. Nobody though. Without Elena or Mia around, she would probably be stuck in Nowhere twiddling her goddamn thumbs when they weren't all busy.

And she sure as shit wasn't going to sit there and act like Owen Shaw had any right to walk back into her life as if he'd been granted sainthood.

"Hey Mia, Letty, you two want breakfast?" Brian's shout came from downstairs. None of them had eaten since last night. With all their focus on the mission and the reality awaiting them, food had just slipped their minds. "We're gonna cook a stack of pancakes, some crispy bacon."

"Sure," yelled Mia. "Sounds good!"

"Okay!"

"So," Mia began, pushing herself up. She stood and moved to block the doorway and any chance of Letty escaping. "You wanna describe this guy?"

"Which one?"

"The cute British one."

"Half the team was British."

"The guy you liked most then. Or girl. There was another girl on the team, right?"

Oh come on. Mia wasn't going to make her rehash the whole thing, was she? They'd been over this before. "Just one. Kinda bitchy. Her name was Vegh and she was a blonde."

"The O'Conner to your Toretto."

"It wasn't like that at all."

"I don't know. Women get judgy when they're afraid that people won't like them."

"Can we please not talk about this?"

"Then get yourself a therapist or something." Perhaps Letty just thought no one would notice it, or maybe she'd swept the past under the rug. Whatever Letty had done, the cracks were beginning to show. She'd frozen at a set of traffic lights for a few seconds just last month, and before that Mia had found Letty asleep one day in the bathroom with her head on the toilet roll. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I'll think about it. No promises. Now let's go get something to eat 'cause I am fucking starving."

"Letty."

"Mia, I love you, but you're not my mother. I don't have time to deal with my personal shit at the moment."

"Well maybe I should be." Clearly suggestions weren't going to work on her. Whenever Letty said she'd think about something, it was tantamount to saying 'no'. Unless Letty explicitly agreed to do a thing, she usually didn't end up following through on it. At no point in the past thirty-odd years had Letty ever acted like a people pleaser. "I don't want to see you get hurt again because of Dom."

"If I make an appointment after this Cipher thing is over, will you get off my ass?"

"No. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Trust me. I saw it in Dom after Dad died."

"I'm not Dom, Mia. I know I married him and took his name but I'm still me."

Yeah, she was. She was the same old stubborn fiery badass Letty who didn't stop unless someone pulled her back and made her slow down and think. The same Letty who'd gone undercover for the FBI, been blown up and lost her memories all for the sake of her boyfriend.

"Then just promise me you'll come back alive."

"A couple weeks from now, I'll walk in that door and everything will be fine. I promise."

* * *

"Are you threatening me, Shaw?"

Son of a bitch. Luke looked down at the knife then up at her. How long had she been carrying a weapon? Better yet, why hadn't the team searched her and her brothers before allowing them on the plane?

"I don't waste my breath on threats." Elizabeth turned on her heels and walked back the way she came, slipping through the gap between the two buildings, circling around another garden bed, till she finally sat herself on the concrete wall once more. Deckard and Owen were still standing there as if nothing had happened, looking somewhat tense despite how relaxed their posture was. Owen nodded his head as if acknowledging her presence or signalling Deckard — she wasn't quite sure which it was — and Deckard returned it.

"You didn't try to kill him, did you?" Deckard asked, noticing the way she carried herself. Head up, shoulders square, eyes almost blank; whatever her current state of mind was, there was a ninety-nine percent chance Hobbs had provoked it. "Because it causes problems when you start murdering people."

"I'm not you, Deckard," she said, keeping her voice flat despite Hobbs' words playing on a loop in her head. _I have your family. A prison awaiting them._ "I don't kill people where everyone can see me."

_She has him there._ Owen maintained a straight face but the crinkle between his eyebrows said he was amused. That little stunt Deckard had pulled at the hospital had been in full view of military guards, security cameras and doctors. They were lucky the British government had decided against trying to interfere with the CIA's interests, otherwise who knew where they'd be right now.

"If either of you are carrying a weapon—" Hobbs' footsteps were heavy, boots hitting the ground as if all his anger and irritation were being expressed through each thud. "—this is your opportunity to tell me now before I get a glove on and we get way too personal with the squat and cough."

"None of us brought a . . ." Deckard took a long look at Elizabeth and frowned. Now he remembered where he'd seen that look before: it was her 'I'm an innocent little girl' face, the one she used to pull when she and Owen were caught doing something illegal. "You have something to say, Beth?"

"I already said what I had to."

"No one has any guns, switchblades, or combat knives hidden under a bra strap?" Luke continued. At that, Deckard looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Absolutely nothing I should know about?"

"Neither of us are carrying." Clearly he couldn't say the same for his sister, however Deckard had no intention of giving up his only reliable firearm. It was still strapped to his back, the same as it had been when he'd arrived at their mum's place. "Satisfied, Hobbs?"

When would he ever be satisfied? Luke wasn't an idiot. He'd seen the way Deckard's jacket sat — he was armed, but Luke had no intention of alerting Elizabeth to that fact. For no reason at all, she had just handed over her ace card, and Luke wasn't about to sign his own death certificate by running his mouth.

"If you three are done," Owen interrupted, "let's just skip to the part where you make us recite the pledge of allegiance."

"Here's a better idea: stop talking." Elizabeth closed her mouth, crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Luke as if to say 'bite me'. "Toretto gets here tomorrow morning with his team. Your sleeping quarters are at the motel. If you need access to a computer or the gym, they're in the warehouse. You want to leave the facility and hit the beach? I want an itinerary for the day detailing your every movement. You don't take a goddamn step outside that fence unless I know about it."

In other words, this was a prison and they were his bitches. Elizabeth pushed off the wall and moved to go inside. Cautiously she stepped through the doorway that led into the large warehouse, looking up, down, every direction but behind her. _What is this place?_

In the distance, she could see a dozen or so desks, with two shelves' worth of equipment behind them. That 'gym' Hobbs had mentioned was there as well. Weights, treadmills, mats, a rowing machine and two punching bags rigged up on chains — everything grown men needed to make themselves look tough — were shoved in a corner.

"Welcome to the Toy Shop." Once through the front door, Hobbs stood next to Elizabeth on a large metal stairwell, with three flights of stairs to descend before he reached the warehouse floor. Luke approached the railing and leaned against it, eyeballing the thirty foot drop to the ground. "If you can't find what you need here—"

"Ask for it to be delivered?"

The foundations of the warehouse had been set deep into the ground, allowing for increased height and two mezzanine levels to be built at either end of the structure. The mezzanine to his right, just below their feet, held a well-equipped kitchen and unisex bathroom with toilets and showers. The other, at the far end, hid a conference room and computer lab: everything Ramsey and Parker would need to find and track Cipher.

"So you know how it works then."

"Same shit, different boss." Elizabeth took the first set of stairs down and pushed open the door to the mezzanine. All that lay inside was an empty L-shaped corridor with two closed doors. "You're jamming the signals out here, aren't you? No phone reception, wi-fi or TV?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask your boss that."

So they _weren't_ working for Hobbs? If not him then who? Who the hell had the kind of clout needed to transport three people across international waters without anyone querying what they were doing, let alone use military aircraft to do so. "Pity. Here I am thinking I'd struck gold with you pulling my strings. Good-looking bloke with a nice arse and all that."

"Excuse me?"

She let the door swing shut and took the second set of stairs down, then the third, keeping her head down so as to hide the smirk on her face. The easiest way to throw a man off his game was compliments, flirtation. Hobbs didn't seem like the type to think with his dick instead of his brain but who knew? Now they were stuck working together, maybe an opportunity would arise that she could take advantage of.

As soon as Luke's feet landed on cement, he looked up, waiting for Deckard and Owen to catch up to them. The sooner there was some distance between himself and the Shaws, the sooner he could stop looking over his shoulder. He had no doubts about his ability to put Deckard in a hospital and yet the presence of the other two made him uneasy. Their files described them as loose cannons in the worst possible way. Luke's own past encounters with them also told him he was going to be sleeping with one eye open till this whole thing was over.

"Where are the cars?" Deckard asked once he was standing on the warehouse floor. "We can't chase Cipher on mopeds."

"Or in Ladas," Elizabeth muttered.

"They'll be delivered tomorrow once you've decided what you're driving." Eric approached the group and held up a thick folio. While Hobbs had been playing Patty Cake with the Shaws outside, he'd been getting things organised. This time, they were keeping everything close to the chest, trying to fly as far under the radar as possible. If Cipher found them before they found her, it was game over. "Go through it. Pick your car. Just make sure that whatever you choose, it's not a neon orange Lamborghini."

"Do you have anything Russian-made in there?"

"I don't know." Reisner gave an apologetic shrug to Elizabeth then handed the folio over to Hobbs. "It's whatever we seize or other departments loan us. Oh, uh, there's no Land Rovers this time. Sorry, Deckard."

"Oh." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "What a shame. I'm still waiting on this bastard to fix that mirror."

"Might as well start digging your grave." Hobbs clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "You're gonna be waiting a while for that to happen."

Owen stepped up to Beth's side and slid his arm around her shoulders as their brother and Hobbs began acting friendly, eyeballing Deckard all the while. Something had changed in him but Owen couldn't pinpoint it. Outside of his former SAS team, Owen had never seen Deckard act 'chummy' with other blokes. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "What do you need me to get?"

"Raspberry Pis, USB ports, disposable phones; a burnt copy of Linux," she murmured, matching his pitch. "Any good tech shop should have the Pi."

"But if the signal here is jammed—"

"There has to be a gap somewhere, or a weak point. Jammers have limited range. We drive around and find it or piggyback their network somehow."

"They'll likely be monitoring the traffic flow."

"I know." Fuck, they would be, wouldn't they? If she was forced to use the GPS' own satellite connection, she'd have to time the messages to cover their tracks. Beth rubbed her eyes and rested her head against Owen's bicep, covering her mouth when she yawned. "I'll figure something out. Deckard won't walk away without Cipher and we're not walking away without her money."

"So where's this motel then, Hobbs?" Deckard said, noticing the way Owen was keeping their sister upright. Maybe an extra hour's sleep would do them all some good. It would also allow him time to go through Little Nobody's book of cars and find something that could hold up under a heavy load of armour plating. "Can't imagine you'd fit on a cot."

"Oh, you're here for the complete tour. Alright then. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to begin by pointing out that what you see here," Luke gestured to Deckard, "is a unique specimen native only to the UK: the British asshole."


	11. Chapter 11

_Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at the open doorway of Cipher's office and the tall ginger standing within it. Despite the knowledge that Connor was Cipher's right-hand man, she simply didn't like the look of him, or any of them actually. Americans could never be relied upon to keep their mouths closed and their opinions to themselves nor trusted to carry out a job properly. "I thought you said we'd have privacy."_

_"Relax. What is it, Rhodes?"_

_"There's a DSS agent sniffing around. He's looking for Owen Shaw."_

_Well that didn't sound good. Who the hell were the DSS and how had they caught wind of her brother? Beth turned her chair around to face Rhodes and waited for him to continue. Instead, Cipher broke the silence first._

_"What's his name?"_

_"Luke Hobbs."_

_Shit. Hobbs had a reputation — even among the circles she moved in — for tracking the toughest targets down no matter the distance. Cipher frowned, laying out the options in her head as to how she could deal with him, then glanced at Elizabeth and the pensive look on her face. "You should go. I'll drop you off at the airport. It's almost time for Maslenitsa, isn't it?"_

_"Almost." She remembered Elizabeth wasn't practising Orthodox, didn't she? Religious status didn't stop anyone from gorging themselves on pancakes but nonetheless, it wasn't reason enough for her to leave early when there was still so much to do. They were also thirty thousand feet in the air where leaving wasn't as simple as walking out the front door. "Who's Hobbs?"_

_"Nobody you need to worry about. Just focus on getting those EMPs built and working. I'll contact you again in a month."_

"Hey Alice, you with us or still off in Wonderland?"

She glanced down from the folio, making sure her feet were firmly in the middle of the nature strip. They'd been walking around for ten minutes now and Hobbs had said almost nothing beyond 'don't go in that building, or that one, or that other one' and 'I expect you to be on your best behaviour' as if they were troublesome children and he their schoolmaster. "I'll take the two Marussias and whatever spare parts you have."

"The F2 _and_ B2?" Eric questioned, scrolling down through a screen on his phone. If she was sure, he'd send the details immediately to Mr. Nobody. Keeping things compartmentalised, however annoying the protocol was, allowed for a small sense of security. Without Cipher knowing which cars they planned to use, she couldn't have her goons plant any kind of bug or tracking device.

"That's what I said. Both."

"What about the Zhigulis?" He'd seen her looking at them with a fondness in her eyes, as if they held some kind of importance. Personally, Little Nobody thought they were old pieces of crap that needed to be condemned to a wrecking yard, but what did he know?

"Um, yes, those too."

"You don't need four cars," Deckard said. Marussia? Zhiguli? What kind of crappy imports were they? "Three's enough between us."

"And you don't need to act like Dad." The names rang bells in Owen's mind yet he couldn't pinpoint where the familiarity came from. "She's not running the mission with us, Deck. Better she improves her mechanical skills than sits around twiddling her thumbs all day."

It was the way Owen spoke that made the words sit uneasy in the back of Beth's mind. Of course she was going to improve her skills. What else was there to do besides work? Once the cars were armoured, she'd have to wire in the GPS systems with their inbuilt tracking devices, make certain the radios worked and the frequency was clear. God forbid any of them have some fun.

"Right, and you haven't been channelling Mum with all your bloody whispering. What are you two planning? Revenge on Toretto? Things have changed, Owen. We need to stay focused."

"Well _someone_ should bury him for what he did to our family." She shut the folio and handed it to Little Nobody, giving Deckard one long hard look before she picked up the pace. Hobbs was only a few metres ahead of them but his stride was still much bigger than hers. It took her thirty seconds to catch up to him then a few more to match his pace. "Hey, Fed, how long till this tour finishes?"

"Why? You got somewhere better to be?"

"Yes. The warehouse."

". . . I'm gonna guess this little chat means you want your knife back." It was strapped to his belt just behind his revolver, concealed by his holster.

"No, you can keep it. It was a little too light for my grip." Combat knives were meant to be carried around constantly, unlike a good solid kitchen knife. She preferred the latter any day over military-grade equipment. They were far more accessible and could be left in plain sight without anyone batting an eyelid. "I just don't want to be stuck with Moe and Curly all afternoon."

"Ah, well, you'd have my sympathies if you weren't hellbent on being a pain in my ass."

"I wouldn't say hellbent."

"You got a star tattooed on your knee."

"Who else was going to do it for me?" Those days were long behind the mob, she thought. Men didn't carry their crimes like brands of honour or marks of war anymore. Call her a little outdated and nostalgic but after everything, a small tattoo was the least she could've done. "Women don't get congratulations for killing a man with their bare hands where I come from."

Right. Luke remembered the photos, the mess of blood and gore. She'd started hitting her boyfriend and hadn't stopped till there was no question he was dead. "So what do you want?"

"Exercise privileges. There's no treadmill in your gym."

He came to a halt and rounded on her, hands on his hips. The lack of a treadmill was unfortunate but Hobbs couldn't do anything about that. Equipment and furnishings had been the CIA's domain. "You want me to let you loose after you've been here for less than two hours? Try utilising a little quid pro quo."

Elizabeth looked at him incredulously. Did he hear himself? "You kidnap my brothers and I, threaten them with prison time if I don't work for you, try to split us up, hold prison over my head as if it's a guillotine—"

Deckard whacked Owen in the shoulder and gestured towards Hobbs. He'd caught the last few words and heard the tone of their voices. None of it sounded good. "You take her, I'll take him."

"No. I've got him, you deal with her."

"I'm not keen on getting punched again, Scarface."

"You're the oldest, Deck. Talking to girls was always more your thing than mine."

Oh for God's sake. Owen really had inherited their Mum's penchant for crocodile tears and manipulation. "Fine."

"—and then when push comes to shove you want even more than what you've already got?" Elizabeth stepped closer, getting in his face as much as their height difference allowed. "Go to hell."

"You keep running your mouth and this won't end well for you."

"Nor you. Considering what happened last time you went up against Cipher, I wouldn't count on your safety being guaranteed."

Alright, that was enough bullshit for one day. Luke reached for the cuffs on his belt and secured one end around Elizabeth's left wrist. He controlled her arm, forcing her to turn around, only to receive a headbutt to the jaw. It rattled his skull, jarring him for a moment, but the lack of force behind it meant the pain faded almost immediately.

"You really don't wanna do this dance with me again, woman."

"Oh? I thought you'd be good at that kind of thing." She smiled to herself, reaching behind her with her uncuffed hand. Hobbs had kept the knife on his right hip, and with his corresponding hand busy, he wouldn't be able to stop her pulling it free. "What do you prefer, the tango or waltz?"

"Beth." Deckard grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, unable to step between the two without forcing them apart and breaking Hobbs' grip. "Don't."

Three seconds was all it would take. One to slide the knife free, two to bury it between his ribs and puncture his lung, assuming he wasn't wearing any kevlar under his shirt. Given their isolation, it seemed fair enough to say there wouldn't be any kind of fully-equipped operating room with a team of doctors on standby. A deep stab wound this far from a hospital would (most likely) result in death.

"Bravo Team." Luke grabbed her right wrist just as her fingers touched the hilt of the knife, twisted her forearm up and secured the other cuff. His earpiece proceeded to beep twice in acknowledgement that the team had heard him. "Escort Miss Shaw to a holding cell."

"Hobbs!"

Owen stood silent only a few feet away, his body tense, alert. If he intervened, put Hobbs on the ground and that knife through his carotid, they'd haul him away too, and then how would their plans work out? _So much for being charming._ Elizabeth had tried doing things her way and blown it. As usual, he would have to take care of everything himself.

"There's an encrypted landline inside. Go call Hattie." They didn't have time for this bullshit. Cipher was God knew where with God knew who and their situation had rapidly escalated. The last thing he wanted was to risk exposure but what other choice did he have? "Get her ass here now."

"Hattie's busy." Not to mention she was still recovering. Being infected with a bioweapon and subsequently having it slowly filtered from your bloodstream put a lot of stress on a person's body.

Hattie—

"You compromised our sister's safety for this bastard?" Elizabeth turned her head to look at Deckard. There was only one way for Hobbs to know Hattie existed, let alone that they were related. If her hands hadn't been restrained, she would've punched him in the face for what he'd done. "What were you thinking?"

"She was willing to die for the mission, I didn't have a choice . . . Hatts said it was over!"

"Is she okay?" The knowledge Hattie had almost died while she'd been living it up in Cuba certainly put a dampener on things. Elizabeth didn't fight when Hobbs walked her towards a black sedan that pulled up besides them or resist when he helped her to step in. If Hattie had said it was over then she really had been prepared to give up and take a bullet. God, what'd happened to their family? "Deck! She's okay, right?"

"Yeah. Of course." Deckard forced himself to smile, chin up and spine straight. _I don't know, Elle. I don't bloody know._ The physical scars would fade with time as they were wont to do. The mental ones were the problem — he couldn't see them, couldn't put a band-aid on them. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

* * *

Dom shuddered against her one last time then rolled onto his back, letting Letty drape herself across his body. He brushed her fringe out of her face, traced the line of her jaw with his fingers and kissed her once more. It was sheer luck Letty was still with him, something he hadn't been able to appreciate till they'd been to hell and back. Now he knew she was the only woman he wanted to spend his life with. "I'm gonna miss this."

"Why? You don't think Hobbs will have us hole up in some abbey tomorrow, do you?" Letty teased. The sheets had slipped down past her waist, tangling around her ankles and calves, exposing a multitude of thin faded scars. She leaned up, shifting closer till she could rest her head on his chest, pressing her cheek flush against his warm bronzed skin. "I don't care if we're surrounded by monks, we can still have fun."

Nah, it wasn't that, he thought. If only. That kind of thing would've been easy to deal with. He'd already told Letty he wanted her with him but still it felt like there was more to say. Whatever it was, it was stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Fun, huh?"

"What is it, Dom? You've got that look on your face like . . ." The crinkles at the corners of his eyes suggested it was some kind of sadness. She pushed herself up, swung her left leg over him completely, moving to sink down on him once more and straddle him. "I love you, Dominic Toretto."

"I know." He lifted his hips to meet her, groaned at the sensation of her enveloping him. Dom reached up to fist a handful of her hair, eyes fluttering closed the moment Letty rocked her hips. "I've always known that."

"And I love our son too. This family we've got. The family we're going to have. I'm never going to let anyone take it from me again, but I can't keep fighting for it on my own."

"Letty—" He opened his eyes, staring up at her. The dim sunlight coming through the window cast a glow over Letty's skin and made her look like some kind of angel. "I'll always fight with you. I said that. I promised it the night we got married."

"Then why didn't you save me?"

What was she talking about? "I did save you."

"No, you didn't. You drove off with Elena and left me on the Antonov with Shaw."

_"Dom?" Brian shook him gently, keeping at arm's length. "Hey, come on, it's time to wake up, buddy."_

"Letty, I—"

_"Dominic Carlos Toretto, get your ass up."_

He groaned, slowly opening his eyes as he sat up on the couch. The image of Letty faded to the recesses of his mind but her words still lingered, as did the sensation of her body on his. Dom rubbed his neck to ease the tension and leaned forward only to wince as pain shot up his spine. Brian immediately pulled him to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, grinning at him.

"Man, you can sleep."

"Sorry." Dom stretched out the kinks in his arms, rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. The scent of hot meat, spiced rice and vegetables wafted out from the kitchen and made his stomach growl. "Any word from Hobbs?"

"Nah. He's probably got his hands full."

Good, he thought. The longer it took Hobbs or Nobody to turn up, the more time they'd have to prepare. "What did you think of the schematics?"

"I don't know. A normal job takes about six weeks to complete." Those kinds of armouring jobs also had 3D mapping equipment to measure the panels. All they would have was their eyes, skills, and a pile of kevlar sheeting. "Cipher could be on our asses in two."

"You know, I don't think she's going to be looking for us here any time soon."

Brian wanted to ask what exactly Ramsey and Tej had been up to but he was afraid the technical jargon would make his brain implode. "Well that's good."

"That's what I said."

"Yo Dom, Brian," Rome shouted from the backyard. "Hurry it up, we're starving out here!"

"Well maybe that's a good thing," Brian retorted. "Losing a couple pounds might help you fly better the next time you drive out of a plane."

"Like that's gonna happen." He shifted in his seat and looked towards Tej and Ramsey. The smirk on Tej's face couldn't be hidden even under his hand. "What? You got something to say too?"

Tej shrugged. He certainly did but Rome wouldn't like it. "I was just thinking we could get you a heat pack in case your balls seize up again. It gets cold up there with the altitude, you know."

"Oh my God," Ramsey groaned, scooting her chair half an inch across. Maybe if she got close enough to Mia and Letty, Tej and Rome would forget she was there. "No more talk of balls. You two are starting to sound like Hobbs and—"

"I know what you're gonna say. Don't compare me to that Boss Baby lookin-ass."

"You want food? Come help carry some plates, man," Brian said, standing in the back doorway with a pile of warmed plates. "I thought you two said you were going to set the table."

"It ain't my fault. He distracted me with all his computer hacker talk."

"No, I didn't." Tej pointed at Rome and mimed drinking. "Your ass is just lazy."

Lazy? He wasn't the one always sitting on his laptop. Roman gave Tej a shove before standing up and taking half the stack from Brian's hands. "Ladies, here you go." Roman grinned, proceeding to set three plates down before Letty, Mia and Ramsey. "Tonight at Casa Toretto we have a lovely—"

"Roman, hurry it up or the food's gonna get cold."

"Shit. Alright, alright, where's the forks?"

As Roman and Brian hurried to get things sorted, Mia leaned sideways towards Letty and asked, "So how did you convince Dom to do all the cooking?"

"Simple. I told him he and Brian would be doing it, no questions asked."

"You _told_ him?"

"C'mon, Mia." Letty sat up in her chair and adjusted her cushion while Dom carried out two large oven dishes. When did Letty not get what she wanted, when she wanted it? The only time she'd ever truly suggested Dom do something had been on their first date. "You know how these things work."

"I've told Dom to do a lot of things and he doesn't follow through on them."

"The problem is you don't have to put out."

They'd once agreed never to talk about Letty's sex life with Dom, yet there she went putting the image in Mia's mind. Clearly that agreement had been momentarily thrown out the window. Mia nodded and watched Brian finish setting up the table, a contemplative look on her face. "I see."

"It's all in the pants, Mia," Letty whispered. The grin on her face said she was struggling not to burst out laughing. "You just dangle the carrot and if he doesn't do what you want, no sex for a week."

"A week? We haven't had sex in a _month_."

"Girl, you got problems, but Brian isn't one of them."

Right, she had two kids and a husband with a penchant for trouble. Sophie was sleeping rough, Jack woke up irritable in the mornings, and now her family was leaving. "You can say that again."


	12. Chapter 12

"So were you trying to get me alone or is this all a happy accident?" Elizabeth watched the inch-thick steel door open and Hobbs step through the doorway from her seat against the wall. Her wrists were still cuffed behind her back, wrists crossed and elbows bent. As big of an arsehole as he'd painted himself with his unstoppable force vs immovable object game, there had to have been a strategy behind it. "Last time it was you, me and a closet. Now this? Hard to believe I'd get lucky twice in a row."

"A happy accident." He stopped a distance from her, well beyond arm's reach. The walls were solid concrete with no windows, just one vent in the roof to pump in air and a yellowing fluorescent light so Shaw could see. Beside him, a man in grey military cams stood with an MP-7 assault rifle slung over his right shoulder and his hand on its grip. "It's your turn to cut the bullshit. Criminal or not, even you have morals."

It seemed he'd finally caught on, or so she thought. Was the truth that Hobbs had been paying attention the entire time? "You said she kidnapped a child. That's where I draw the line."

"So then why are you here still standing here? The reason can't be your brothers. You walked out on them once already."

Rude much? It was and wasn't them. Magdalene had asked her to keep her brothers alive but the fact was, Owen and Deckard could do a fine job of that themselves. Elizabeth attempted to fan herself with her shirt to no avail, sweat beading on her nose and forehead. Despite the relatively cool floor, the air was warm and humid. "You said it yourself: even I have morals. Cipher needs to be stopped before she does something really stupid."

"Like hijacking a submarine and stealing a nuclear football?"

"Jesus Christ." What kind of power trip had she been on? And who stole a nuclear football? The only reason anyone would need one of those was to launch a nuclear missile, which in itself was not something normal people did. "Bastard didn't mention that."

It appeared Shaw really had no clue about what'd been happening while she was enjoying her siestas in Cuba. Her brother had withheld information, kept her in the dark. Now — if Luke had any say in the matter — Owen's poor attempt at lying through omission would bite him in the ass.

"I'll bet he didn't mention a lot of things." Luke fetched a solid metal chair from against the right wall and turned it around, sitting on it backwards. Five minutes, he'd give himself, then he was out and going straight for the showers to cool off. Beneath his flak vest, his shirt was soaked with sweat and being in this room did him no favours. "Call it mutual interest or whatever helps you sleep better, but if those cuffs come off, you work with us till she's behind bars."

"With you, not for you."

Was she playing games with him? "That's what I said."

"Just double-checking. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

That's what she wanted to call it? A notoriety within their family was more like it. Outside of her old job, and her relations, Shaw (like most people) bore the reputation of a nobody. Luke dangled the keys from his index finger as he sat there, watching her. If she made a move he didn't like, so much as sneezed wrong, Hobbs would leave her there to rot. Whatever Shaw thought would happen, he'd ensure it was worse.

"Well?" Elizabeth turned around and wiggled her fingers at him. The metal was starting to dig in and her arms had begun to ache from the uncomfortable position. "Oh come on, you can't be planning to actually leave me in here. This isn't even a prison, it's just a storage room."

"You catch on quick."

She glared at him over her shoulder, scowl half-hidden by the angle of her head. How many times would she have to prove it? Elizabeth was standing there, playing along with his stupid games instead of making a break for it. That alone was evidence she had no interest in walking away or being locked up. Besides, it wasn't her fault he was so disagreeable.

"Would you like me to say 'please' then? You weren't this much of an arse last time."

Luke scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. What was with her and that two-faced act? One second she was nice, the next Shaw was insulting him. He pushed himself up off the chair and approached her, undoing her cuffs without another moment wasted. "For the record," he said once she was facing him, flexing her hands and rubbing her wrists, "I prefer the tango."

"Well that puts us at odds, Fed." Elizabeth stepped past him, a sly smile on her face as she glanced at the watch on his wrist. Had she really only been in the room for just over half an hour? It hadn't felt like forty minutes, but what was that compared to the years she'd already served? "Because I'm much more interested in waltzing."

Of course. A slow dance for a slow woman. As short-tempered as she was, Shaw had spent all those years playing the well-mannered office girl only to turn around and stab her bosses in the back. That kind of patience couldn't be taught to most people. It needed to be cultivated, honed — no doubt their mother was to thank for that. One day, Luke was going to have to meet the woman and congratulate her on raising such hellish children.

"Are you now?"

"Mm-hmm." She dropped down onto the chair and straddled it, arms crossed over the back. Elizabeth rested her chin on top of them, proceeding to stare at him. If not for the fact he was someone who'd locked her up in prison and made her life a living hell, who'd actively tried to harm her family, Beth might've found herself wanting to move this whole thing further than small quips and dull banter. "So while we still have some privacy, why don't you tell me about this quid pro quo thing?"

"Now you want to talk?"

"Owen and Deckard were who she approached first, and she only went for Oh because Decks refused." A little misdirection wouldn't hurt her brother. If everyone's eyes were on the loose cannon instead of her, Elizabeth's chances of pulling the heist increased. "If Owen thinks I'm betraying the family, he'll close himself off. You want Cipher? Watch him."

They already had people watching her brother, and some listening, but if Elizabeth wanted to try and play him, Luke would sit back and let her. Or he could ruin her fun and rattle her. If Shaw thought she was on shaky ground, she'd be much more likely to slip up. Maybe she'd tell him something, or reveal something. Perhaps, if he were lucky, Elizabeth would lead him right to Cipher without him having to say so much as 'please'.

"Would this be the Mick Jagger you're trying to pull?" he asked after another moment of deliberation. "Deckard, your sister and I already used that one. Try again."

"Oh please, does this seem like some stupid grift to you? We're not talking about a couple bored kids."

"No, just two scheming adults."

"I'd hardly call it scheming."

"What would you call it then?"

"Plotting?" Elizabeth suggested. She immediately scoffed and rolled her eyes, pushed herself up off the chair. Clearly he thought he knew something about their family, and maybe he did, but bringing up some memories from their shared childhood wasn't going to change much of anything. "The only thing we've been discussing is how much armour it'll take to keep us alive. That woman is ruthless and neither of us want to die, Hobbs."

"You're a glorified kitchen hand." With Owen and Deckard on the team, it brought their numbers to an even ten. The Shaws contributed their military experience while both them and Dom brought to the table their knowledge of the target. "You'll be staying at your desk, doing what you're told, not driving a car. You have no reason to worry about dying."

"Right. You just keep on telling yourself that." Owen, Deckard and herself would take Cipher down, just like Deckard had hinted at in his little 'ride or die' speech. She wasn't going to wait around for this other so-called team to turn up, not when they could be kicking the hornet's nest. If one of them drew Cipher's attention, lured her out (something much easier said than done) then Deckard and Owen could take her down while Elizabeth dealt with the corporate espionage side of things. "So where are my brothers?"

"Outside. In a conference room. Wilson will take you to it."

"An armed escort? I didn't think you cared about my personal safety."

"I don't." Luke walked past her, hand on his holster strap. He gave a nod to Wilson and opened the door, revealing the ground floor of the warehouse. The hydraulic platform on the north side of the building hummed loudly, slowly lowering his Gurkha and its driver, while voices upon voices carried across the open floor, talking of everything from bullet calibers to 'port scans' and the latest football game. "Just concerned with everyone else's."

"Do you distrust me that much?" They might as well hash it out while the topic was on the table, she thought. Better to see where they both stood than remain unaware. "I don't kill people for pleasure, Hobbs. I might be tempted by revenge but there's a long hill I have to descend to get there first."

Of course that descent was quickened when she was angry, but whose wasn't? People did all kinds of stupid things when they were angry, like try to kill their girlfriend or repeatedly punch their brother in the face.

"The people you'll be working with are the ones who nearly killed your brothers, who killed Riley. Who's to say you won't seek revenge on them?"

As good as it would feel knowing Toretto was six feet beneath the ground, that he could never hurt her family again, they had an apparent 'mutual interest' in stopping Cipher. Elizabeth wouldn't absolve them of their actions but neither would she hold them accountable . . . yet. Call it gut instinct or common sense but that little voice in the back of her head said revenge could wait till she had the full story (and the money). "I've more important things to deal with right now, Hobbs, although I do have one question."

"What?"

"Will your team be joining us? They were faster than I expected, and I did enjoy kicking your friend in the balls."

Luke paused in the doorway, staring blankly at the warehouse as if someone had just hit a great big pause button in his head. His team. Right. His team had been alive when they'd caught Elizabeth, had helped him take her down. Wilkes on the infrared and heat cameras, Fusco running down the corridor and grabbing her. Shaw slipping out of the backpack. Chato herding her towards them like a sheepdog that needed no orders, only a signal.

His team and himself on the plane, personally transporting her to Cuba while on their way to Brazil. Shaw had sat there quietly the entire time except for the occasional bathroom break, staring out the plane's window while he, Chato and Wilkes played poker. Fusco had gone to sleep, and Macroy spent the entire time cleaning their weapons. Shaw, still seated by her window, forehead against the fogged-up glass, pretending that she wasn't crying even as her whole body shook.

Less than two weeks later, his men were dead. Bleeding out and blown up in the favelas, in Reyes' ambush. By ordering the attack, that corrupt sumbitch had signed his own death warrant.

Hobbs had almost forgotten she'd seen what he was like between jobs, his team laughing and making bets on whether Chato would have to step in and prevent Luke from getting his ass kicked for smiling at the wrong woman. What could he say? Women just seemed to like him.

"No, they won't be," he said finally, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. "They're dead."

"Fuck." What else was there to say? Elizabeth hesitantly stepped forward as if to offer condolences then backed off, dropping her arms by her sides. How many years had it been since their encounter? She hadn't memorised their names, or paid any attention to them at all really, but they'd acted like a family. Despite spending most of the flight to Cuba ignoring them, Elizabeth had noticed that much. "I'm sorry."

"It is what it is."

Was that meant to be some macho man talk or had he simply come to terms with the past? She waited till Hobbs cleared the doorway then stepped out with Wilson on her arse. "The person that killed your friends, did they get what they deserved?"

"I put three bullets in his chest so I'd say that's an affirmative."

"Then you understand why I'm still standing here."

At that, he rounded on her, blocked Elizabeth from going any further. If she was insinuating that they were similar, she was dead wrong. Him and her were nothing alike. She was a killer, a greedy piece of shit indirectly responsible for numerous deaths, while Luke was a lawman. Yet as much as he wanted to deny them, there were _minor_ parallels. "Say I were to turn a blind eye to your . . . let's call them 'shenanigans'. You take Cipher's money, the billion dollars—"

Elizabeth lifted her head and met his gaze. How did he know? How the hell did he know about the money? Unless the cars had been bugged, or they themselves were bugged. There'd been plenty of opportunities for Hobbs' men to slip a listening device on them. Perhaps the security cameras she and Owen had seen were wired with microphones too. The 'when' didn't really matter though. There were too many variables, too many moments when the tables could've turned, for her to pinpoint the exact one.

All that did matter was they _knew_.

And there was that look. A mix of horror and surprise. No doubt she was wondering how they'd gotten the information. Luke nodded, smiling like the Cheshire cat as he crossed his arms and leaned forward, getting into her personal space. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention we know all about your plans with Owen. What was it you said about needing Raspberry Pis and Linux?"

Son of a bitch. There had to be a bug on her somewhere, or on Owen. The moment she had some privacy, she'd strip and search herself, tell Owen to check himself too. Was it in her jacket pocket, she wondered? Maybe concealed beneath the back of her collar? However Hobbs had managed it, he'd done it without ringing any alarm bells.

"What of them?" Elizabeth asked. There was no point denying things, not when Hobbs was talking about turning a blind eye. Perhaps if she played along, she could twist things around to her benefit, or maybe Hobbs had been two steps ahead the entire time and once again she was being reduced to the role of a puppet on someone else's strings. "You want me to split the money with your team? That'll never happen. I didn't go to prison so some arseholes could cash in."

"Can I finish?"

Go on, she gestured.

"—and then you make the rest disappear too. You think you're so good because you stole a couple million from the mob? Claim bragging rights when you take Cipher for all she's worth."

Wait a minute. Was he _challenging_ her? If she pinched herself, would she wake to find herself still in the car onboard the C-130? "In return, you turn a blind eye to any shenanigans," Elizabeth said, making air quotes with her fingers. "Wow, sounds like you're actually just as much a criminal as the rest of us."

"There's your quid pro quo. Take it or leave it."

"Well it doesn't matter anyway, because I can't just take her money from the outside. I need access to her servers."

"And where are they?"

Goddamn it. So much for her ethics. She looked away from Hobbs, staring at the floor and chewing on her bottom lip as the options circled around in her head. Play along or get locked up. Two choices were all she had, and she really didn't want to go back to that hellish prison again.

"You want your life back? Your freedom? They're on the table right now." She hadn't broken so much as buckled, Luke thought. Pile on the heavy weight of knowledge of the past, the future, all those options, and anyone would crumble beneath it. "Thirty seconds. Make your choice."

"I don't know where they are."

"Try again. Twenty-four seconds."

"I don't fucking know where her servers are because they're on trucks that constantly move! Coño! What part of Cipher being a 'cyberterrorist' don't you understand?"

"What trucks?"

"I don't know. Refrigerated ones, I assume, to keep everything cool."

"So much for that star on your knee." Luke looked her up and down as if amused then turned and walked away, heading for the east end of the warehouse. It was time for that shower, he decided. He needed to get the sweat off him, and the grime, as well as rid himself of the feeling that he'd just betrayed his own code. Luke didn't turn blind eyes to 'shenanigans', and he certainly didn't make deals with the devil either. At some point, this would come back to bite him in the ass. "Wilson, take Miss Shaw upstairs to her brothers. Make sure the three of them are comfortable. They've got a long night ahead of them."


	13. Chapter 13

The sun filtered through the windows that lined the roof of the warehouse, warming the air inside the building and providing enough light that the overhead fluorescents were presently turned off. Luke walked down the centre aisle, making his way towards the group of work stations and the figure slumped in one of the chairs. With their back to him and a jacket half-covering their head, he wasn't quite sure which one of the Shaws it was till he got closer.

Hobbs picked up the cold soldering iron from its holder and tapped it against the heavy metal desk. The loud _clang_ rang in his ears twice more when Luke struck the desk again and again. "Time to wake up, Shaw!"

"I'm resting my eyes. What do you want?"

Awake already? That was a surprise, or perhaps Shaw hadn't slept. He'd set up a cot for himself in the corridor of the eastern mezzanine and slept there overnight while Deckard and Owen had helped themselves to a motel room. Twice, he'd gotten up and looked out across the warehouse to see Elizabeth still at her work station or standing in front of a portable whiteboard, marker in hand, writing out some kind of formula. "Toretto and his team arrive in two hours. Take the time to freshen up."

Elizabeth reached up and slid her jacket off her head, squinting up at him. There were bags under her eyes and her bottom lip was slightly puffed. Hobbs leaned against her desk, a nonplussed look on his face, as if this were some casual visit on her behalf and she hadn't been kidnapped by his friends. "Wh—"

"It's seven o'clock."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Her stomach rumbled as if to remind her that tea and a packet of cookies were not adequate early morning snacks. She groaned, sat forward and winced when pain radiated up her back. "Well," Elizabeth pushed herself up off the chair and stretched, working out the kinks in her shoulders, "I'm gonna go get some sleep."

"Or you can get your ass in a shower, eat something—" he looked down at the trash can beside her work station; three stained styrofoam cups stuck out of it among plastic packaging "—decent and get ready to meet your new team."

"You know, it's funny but I don't remember signing a piece of paper that said I'd be your bitch." Elizabeth tossed her jacket over her shoulder and gave him a slight wave of her fingers before she stepped past Hobbs and walked towards the lift. Even one hour of sleep would be enough to keep her going for the rest of the day. "I'll see you in two hours."

Luke frowned as Shaw strutted away, arrogant as ever. His not-quite-order had gone completely ignored while she walked off as if last night's conversation had given her the idea that she owned the air she breathed. "I said I'd turn a blind eye to your shenanigans, not your—"

"It's called effective time management." She stepped onto the lift and pushed the 'up' button. It was a twenty minute walk to the motel itself, or an eight minute drive. Considering their cars were yet to arrive, Elizabeth would just have to haul ass this morning. "Maybe you should ask Deckard about it, Fed, you might learn something!"

"If you're ten seconds late . . ."

"I can't hear you." Elizabeth gestured to the lift, smiling all the while. The hiss of the hydraulics, the distance between them and loud hum of the motor all served to block out whatever Hobbs was saying. "It's too loud!"

He scowled, glaring at her from where he stood. Luke dropped the soldering iron back on her desk and eyed the bright yellow post-it note in the middle of the whiteboard that read 'do not erase'. Beneath it, calculations were written out messily, with arrows pointing to sections of them alongside notes in Russian cursive.

Only one thing stood out to Luke: C-4.

"What exactly are you planning on blowing up?" Hobbs murmured. He lifted a schematic for a standard refrigerated truck and reached for a hand-drawn diagram from the top of the stack. "Door's hinges are on the inside, and if Cipher has them monitored, she'll know if we—"

"Make sure you put them back where you found them."

Luke dropped his hands to his waist, diagram and schematic falling to the floor, and drew his revolver in one smooth motion, taking aim at Deckard's chest. "I told you last time, you bald sumbitch, don't sneak up on me."

"Who's sneaking?" Deckard scoffed and helped himself to a seat. He leaned back, resting his feet on the edge of the desk. "A herd of elephants could've come through here and you wouldn't have noticed."

"Right. Care for a sparring session, Captain?"

Sparring? That was what Hobbs wanted to call it? Maybe he didn't understand the concept of having your arse kicked but that was exactly what would happen. "You mean a rematch."

_Oh it's on._ Luke peeled off his tank top and tossed it towards the corner gym. "If we had a rematch, you would end up smeared on the floor. Consider this fun between friends."

"I think those hits from Brixton did some damage to your brain. We," Deckard gestured between the pair of them, "are _not_ friends, but you're right about one thing: this will be fun."

They had two hours and free reign of the warehouse — of course it would be. Luke crossed his arms over his chest in a stretch then slipped his boots off, dropping them next to his tank. He did a couple squats and crunches, loosening his legs, and gestured at Deckard to hurry up. "Aww, really? I thought we were having a beautiful bromance."

Deckard unbuttoned his shirt, making certain the sleeves didn't slide into themselves, and folded it over the back of a chair. His shoes he left beneath it. The seconds ticked by as he approached Luke, feet sinking into the foam mats beneath him, eyebrows pinched and eyes fixed on Hobbs in a cold glare. "The only romance you were having was with my sister, who I repeatedly told you to stay away from, but you just didn't listen."

"Oh, so you want to play, Princess."

"_Hobbs_."

"I'm only joking. There's nothing between you and me, but I meant what I said on the pl—"

He was flat on his back inside of three seconds, Deckard's foot pressing against his breastbone. "You just had to open your big mouth."

With that, there was a little under one hour and fifty-six minutes.

"Owen!" She thumped the door of his motel room twice, foot tapping the concrete step impatiently. Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest, calves aching from the sprint she'd broken into. Around her, a dozen rooms faced each other, divided by a large parking lot, with six on both the east and west sides. At the north end of the lot, a concrete walking track began, leading away from the motel and curving off to the east out of sight. "Wake your arse up."

"It's unlocked."

Oh. Good. Elizabeth twisted the handle and shouldered the door open, letting it swing shut behind her once she was out of the way. "Hobbs said Toretto will be here at nine. You mind if I crash on your—"

Towel wrapped around his waist and choppy curls dripping with water, Owen stood in the bathroom doorway and gestured to the large double bed. Elizabeth was stretched out on it in moments, half asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. He sat on the end of the mattress and used a spare towel to dry his hair, flinging water droplets in every direction. Beth jabbed him in the ribs with her foot in retaliation but made no effort to put any force behind it.

"I'll wake you in an hour."

"Thanks."

"And Hobbs is in room twelve so you should take eleven."

That didn't sound like a suggestion. "Is this a strategic thing or are you trying to torture me?"

""A little of both."

Elizabeth lifted her head to squint at him and scowled. Of course it was. Being in the motel room next to Hobbs would have her awake when he was, potentially allow her to listen in on any conversations, and give her the second-best access point to the footpath she'd seen. "You're a sadist."

"Says the woman who crossed Europe for the sake of revenge."

"I didn't. . ." God, she couldn't lie to him, could she? Owen was the one who could look her in the eye and see right through the bullshit. The only one who knew exactly what she'd done, what she'd buried in the past and would never admit aloud. "What's your point?"

"Sooner or later, Cipher is going to talk. She needs to be silenced before then whether you like it or not."

* * *

Desert, desert and more desert surrounded them. No matter which window Tej looked out of, there was nothing but sealed road and dust. And then suddenly it was there, spread out ahead of them: an electric gate and fencing stretching out to their left and right as far as the eye could see. Beyond it, multi-storey glass buildings loomed on the horizon. "The hell are we?"

"Looks like Area 52 to me." Roman craned his head over the Tej's seat to stare out the front windshield. "I bet you this is where the real shit happens. Creepy place in the middle of nowhere."

"Well it was either this or an old abandoned mine so consider yourself lucky, Roman." Little Nobody looked over his shoulder at Pearce and smiled. "Oh, yeah, we could've been in a plane too."

"Nah, I ain't getting on no plane with your asses again. You can take that idea and—"

"Hey, Rome," Brian called from one of the front seats, a shit-eating grin on his face, right fist and middle finger upright. "How do you like my minivan now?"

"Shut up and drive, man."

"You know, maybe if you're good, I'll buy you an ice cream when we get there."

"I swear if you two don't shut up, I'm gonna knock you both out," Letty warned. Duffel bag in her lap, she watched and waited as the facility drew near. Beside her, Dom sat with his arm around her shoulders, fingers gently pressing into her bicep. "Don't make me come back there."

"Sorry, Letty." Rome flinched as Ramsey leaned over her seat and punched him in the arm. "Ow, what was that for?"

Her afro was combed and tied back, out of reach of anyone who might try and grab it. Laptop bag slung over her shoulder and earbuds in, Ramsey looked every bit the hacker, and beautiful woman, that she was. "A warning."

"Huh. Well you punch like my gra—"

"Don't go there, man," Tej said, shaking his head. "Just don't."

"Hey, Driver." Dom leaned across the aisle to tap Brian on the shoulder. "Do I get an ice cream?"

Letty rolled her eyes, muttered "oh my God" as she rested her head against the window. She lifted an iced bottle of water from her lap and took a sip, pressed it to her forehead in an attempt to cool her face. Tugging at her sleeveless top to fan herself, Letty sighed, slumping down into the seat.

"For you, Mr. Toretto, of course."

As they passed through the gate, Little Nobody reached for the handheld radio clipped to his belt. "Hobbs, we just drove in. We'll be there in a few minutes."

_"Roger that."_

Ramsey glanced down at her laptop then out the window. A radio transmission could potentially travel for a mile out here without interference. "So you said there's no signal out here, right?"

"Right. Almost everything's been jammed." Beyond the frequencies and connections they were using, the tech guys had assured them the site was secure. All Little and Mr. Nobody could do was take them at their word. "We can't hide from imaging satellites but if anyone here tries connecting to the outside world or vice versa, the firewall will block them."

"That means Cipher could already know where we are," Tej said warily. Except for standing inside a building, or destroying the satellite itself, there was no real way to hide from eyes in the sky. The government could 'ask' companies not to photograph their facilities but their control over the end result was minimal.

"Sure," Eric hesitated. How was he supposed to know what had gone on behind the scenes? While his fellow employees had been setting up, he was on a plane with Hobbs and Mr. Nobody, headed for Cuba. If Ramsey and Tej wanted to know more, they'd have to ask the goddamn IT guys. "But we have her plane and she has no copy of God's Eye."

"Cipher's a hacker. Can't she just hack her way into that shit?"

"It doesn't work like that, Roman."

"Tell that to the submarine."

"Alright, kids, the wheels on the bus stopped going round and round." Brian waved to catch their attention. "Everybody off! Let's go, come on."

With all their gear in tow, Brian's suggestion to take his and Mia's pimped-out eight-seater soccer mom van had seemed like a good idea at the time. Half an hour into the ride, Dom had come to regret it. As Roman and Tej exited the car via the side door, he asked, "Letty, you coming?"

"Yeah, I just need a minute." Letty wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt, still gazing blankly out the window. All the memories she'd suppressed after Spain were rushing back, hitting her in one massive tidal wave, and she was struggling to handle them. Letty had done what the books suggested, written out her feelings on paper and burned it afterwards, but none of it had healed the gaping wound Spain left inside her.

The gaping wound caused by Owen fucking Shaw.

_That asshole nearly killed his entire team, including you,_ Letty reminded herself. _Stop moping and get angry. There's no problem that can't be fixed by punching him in the face._

"Letty!" Dom gestured from the warehouse's side entrance. He watched her climb out, water bottle in hand, and leave her duffel bag in the car before slamming the sliding door shut behind her. "You know you can talk to me," he said once she was within earshot. _I love you, remember?_ "About anything."

"I'm good. The heat's a little intense."

"Yeah, it is." Without the coastal breeze they got in L.A, there was nothing to stave off the heat. "It's the Shaws, isn't it?"

"It's more than them. I—" Letty swallowed, rested her forehead against his chest. Things weren't always easy but the one solid thing Letty had to lean on was him. _I don't want to die._ "I'm scared, Dom."

"So am I." He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the forehead. "But we've got each other and the team. Nothing's gonna happen to you or anyone else, Letty, I won't let it. Elena would kill me if I did."

Her lips curved up in a smile. Letty kissed him on the lips and pat Dom on the chest then took his hand in hers, guiding him inside. Assembled at the bottom of the stairs were Brian and the others, with Hobbs and Little Nobody two feet away.

"Long time no see, cop." Dom nodded at Hobbs in acknowledgment, keeping his fingers laced between Letty's. Her grip was easy, relaxed, but the way she stroked his hand with her thumb said she was still a little on edge. He couldn't blame her for that. It made Dom uneasy just knowing that psychopath was in the same country as them.

Luke returned the nod. "Dom."

"Let's just get this over with."

"They're down the other end." Or Deckard was, in any case. The other two had walked in with ten minutes to spare and Elizabeth had subsequently disappeared (again). Only God knew where she was because Luke certainly didn't.

"Toretto."

Dom shifted his attention to the tall bald Englishman standing behind Hobbs and the dark-haired son of a bitch next to him. "Shaw."

"How's the kid?"

"Growing."

The left corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile when Deckard chuckled. "Good."

"Hello, Letty." Owen's greeting went ignored. "It's been a while."

She walked past him, fist clenched, and followed the centre aisle towards a row of cars parked at the far end of the warehouse. A black Dodge Challenger was among them — had Hobbs ordered it specifically for Dom? — and a slick cherry red Corvette sat next to it. At the end, raised up on a jack, sat an olive green car just over four and a half feet tall, with its front bumper falling off and tyres shredded.

Parked behind it, however, was Hobbs' Gurkha. In comparison, it made the Zhiguli look even smaller.

"The cold shoulder treatment never did suit you, Letty." A dozen or more feet behind him, Hobbs, Deckard and Toretto were moving in his general direction. There was something different about her now, Owen thought, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. "Nor that kind of childish pettiness."

"Fuck off, Shaw."

They were here? Elizabeth lifted her head and peered over the windshield of the Marussia F2 she was currently sitting in. And had Owen just said _Letty_? She sat up, quietly slipped out of the supercar — the seats were just as soft as they looked, the leather uncracked and well-maintained — then approached them as casually as possible.

"You haven't changed a bit." No one could've failed to hear the amusement in Owen's voice. "I guess this means I'll see you around."

"Wow." She stepped in-between them, pushing Owen back. _Letty?_, Elizabeth mouthed, _that's her?_ "I get dragged halfway around the world and you don't even introduce me."

The look in Owen's eyes said Elizabeth was intruding where he didn't want or need her, and Letty's scoff said she was two seconds from walking away. "We were having a conversation, now go back to your desk, _Anna_."

"If I recall, the woman told you to, and I quote, fuck off, Owen." Beth gave him a smile before she glanced down at her fist. Clearly there was more of a history there than Owen had first let on about. What else had he failed tell her? "Now why don't you go run and cry to Deckard about the mean girls?"

Behind her, Letty chuckled and stepped back, moving around them quickly. Dom stood in front of his Dodge with the hood propped open, gazing down at the engine. That was as perfect an escape route as any. "Nice girlfriend you got there, Shaw. I like her better than the last one."

"What the hell was that?" Owen hissed once Letty was out of earshot. He grabbed Beth's arm and turned her around, facing away from the rest of the team. "I don't need any help handling her."

"You were being rude, and I needed an in."

"Toretto will never trust you."

"I don't need him to. Just her. Plus you didn't mention how hot she is."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Really? Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. It was going to make the job a whole lot easier (and fun). If Owen could just pull his head out of his arse and see the opportunities, he'd understand. She patted him on the cheek then pushed past him, not attempting to hide the slight grin on her face.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Luke asked, approaching Elizabeth with his arms crossed. There was six feet between her and Toretto, and Hobbs didn't plan on letting her get within three of him. When she tried to sidestep him, Luke blocked her. "You two look like a couple of gossipy old women standing over there."

"Teaching my brother a lesson about how to talk to women. Maybe you haven't noticed but he's kind of a bastard."

"You can say that again." If Owen was her brother, that explained the hair, the eyes. Jesus, there were _three_ Shaws now? Where had she been and why hadn't Owen mentioned her (or Deckard, for that matter). "Hobbs, let's get this team meeting started."

Elizabeth took the opportunity to step around Luke and lean against the Corvette. Red wasn't exactly her colour but it didn't take a genius to notice how Letty was looking at the car. Clearly it was hers. Classy _and_ beautiful? Why the hell had Owen let her slip through his fingers? "So . . . do I get to know the name of the woman I'm working with?"

"Hands off, Beth," Deckard called out. He glanced across at Ortiz and his sister, noticing the smile on her face and the way her eyes lit up. Dom didn't seem to be paying much attention, but the last mission had made it clear Ortiz could look after herself. "She's married."

"And you're not. Clearly she knows something you don't."

Some military-civilian relationships just didn't last. It was an unfortunate truth. "Oi."

"The name's Letty."

"Elizabeth."

"Owen called you—"

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "He likes playing the birth name card when he's grumpy."

"And your surname is . . ."

"Shaw." Elizabeth held out her hand towards Letty. "Or Volkova, if you'd like to make things a little easier."

"Ortiz." Letty grinned and shook it. At face value, Shaw No. 3 seemed nice enough, but Letty wasn't about to drop her guard. She'd seen how dangerous both Deckard and Owen were up close, and something about this woman had Letty's instincts suggesting she was just as lethal. "I guess I should say it's nice to meet you, Shaw."

"Likewise."


	14. Chapter 14

With the meeting done — Hobbs told them about a refrigerated truck carrying a server farm, and Ramsey suggested something about hard drives, uplinks and trojan horses — Letty had finally become free to leave. The moment Little Nobody mentioned wrapping it up there, she'd slipped out of her chair and left Dom to sit and talk with Hobbs. Hash out the alpha male bullshit now, Letty figured, and it wouldn't interfere with the mission later.

"Aren't you meant to be part of the team, Shaw?" she called out, walking past the line of six cars to her right. Elizabeth sat at the end beside the thirty-something-year-old Zhiguli, cross-legged on the floor, a sheaf of papers in hand and a toolkit beside her. Under the car itself was a growing pile of parts. "Didn't see your ass upstairs."

"I've got more important things to do."

"Like fix that piece of crap?"

Until she found an active landline, with a modem attached to it, or Hobbs and his little government lackey allowed her access to an internet connection, there was little Elizabeth could do but sit, and solder, and draw and wait. "Yeah."

"Okay." Letty chuckled. If Shaw thought she could keep that thing's tyres from flying off the axles every time she took a corner, more power to her. Zhiguli, or Lada as they'd been sold in the States, were notorious for falling apart. Every old Russian guy she'd talked to during her Moscow heist had spoken of fond and not so fond memories of fixing the car up while they froze their ass off. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Letty continued down the aisle towards the other end of the warehouse. Right now, all she wanted was a strong cup of coffee and five minutes alone. No team, no Dom, no Hobbs — just herself and an almost-lethal dose of caffeine and sugar. It wasn't exactly a morning ritual, nor anything on par with meditation and all that mindfulness shit. Letty simply enjoyed having space to breathe after so many years of crowded rooms and confined spaces.

Upstairs, Dom leaned on the table, palms flat, resting all his weight on it. Hobbs and Brian sat at one end of the table, Deckard and Owen at the other. Roman, Tej and Ramsey were downstairs, dealing with things their own way. "So how long do you think this'll take, Hobbs?"

"Weeks, possibly months. Cipher hasn't exactly left a trail," Luke said. He'd done his best to avoid mentioning any timelines during the meeting. There was no sense in giving them false hope about going home early, or revealing the card up his sleeve with Owen in the room. "Luring her out is the best option."

He wouldn't say it aloud but Dom had been hoping it'd be a few days, two weeks at most. He didn't want to be away from Marcus any longer than he had to be. Then there was Letty — her words had played on a loop in his head. Their conversation outside the car, the one from his dream. Everything was bringing his fears to the surface, no matter their age. "Whose ass would be on the line?"

"Yours," Deckard said. "Your team's."

If Cipher had kept a copy of God's Eye, she'd only have to use facial recognition and backtrack their movements. Toretto's face and those of his team would be on every camera between here and Los Angeles, providing a yellow brick road Cipher could follow all the way to Nowhere.

Given his family's not-so-discreet extraction from London and subsequent illegal entry into the States, it was doubtful that anyone was aware of Deckard's presence in the country, let alone that of his siblings. With any luck, he'd keep it that way. The last thing Deckard wanted was someone tipping off his grudge-holding enemies.

"Why?"

"Cipher doesn't know where we are, or of our involvement," Deckard said. Despite Hobbs' connections, he and Mr. Nobody seemed to be keeping the mission firmly below the radar. That was kind of a given when he thought about it, what with Cipher being their target. "The longer we stay in the shadows, the better the odds of catching her."

"That's bullshit," Brian interrupted. He looked at Dom, Hobbs, then at Shaw. The odds weren't going to increase by way of them sitting on their hands. "You expect us to take all the risk while you—"

"Let me make one thing clear: I don't care what you think, O'Conner. The only reason you're here is because Toretto couldn't get the job done properly in the first place."

Owen snorted, proceeding to cough into his sleeve. By his recollection, it was Deckard who'd let Cipher escape. He had also been responsible for Toretto escaping with his life, but Deckard didn't like being reminded of that. If not for his failures, none of them would be sitting there right now.

"Shaw." Luke threw Deckard a look that said 'shut up'. If he and his brother didn't cut the bullshit, Luke would drag them both to a cell and carry out the mission without them. "Let him finish."

"What you're going to do is cover our asses," Dom said. That military training had to be good for something. SBS, SAS, MI6 — the Shaws should've been able to catch Cipher in their sleep. "Now let _me_ make something clear." He stood, braced his fists on the table and looked at Owen. "You stay away from my wife or I put you back in whatever grave you crawled out of."

Owen gave him a cold, insincere smile and rose to his feet. "Oh I'd be more worried about keeping your wife away from me, mate," he said coolly, in that same emotionless tone he'd used with Oakes that night in London. "Perhaps you forgot but we have a history. I don't suppose Letty ever told you how she got that scar on her thigh."

"Nobody will be burying anybody till this thing's over."

"Speak for yourself, Hobbs."

After that, Owen left the room, passing Roman, Tej and Ramsey on his way downstairs. All three were on the second flight of stairs, looking toward the mezzanine and the glass room. Had they been listening, he wondered, or simply watching the show unfold?

His footsteps echoed on the metal steps, causing Elizabeth to look up from the diagram she was sketching out. Owen didn't seem to be in a hurry but the way he carried himself suggested the opposite. He bore a lethal grace, the stride of someone who easily fit in amongst the upper echelons of society, and a look that said the next person who got in his way would be moved.

"Okay," she muttered, and stood. Elizabeth carried the sheaf to her workstation and tucked it into the top drawer, tossing her pencil in with the papers. On any other day, she might've gone after him and poked her nose into Owen's business. Common sense said right now, she was better off not doing so. "That's Deckard's problem today."

As they moved away from the stairs, Tej asked, "So what you thinking? Cipher's communicating with telnet? Bulletin boards aren't indexed."

"It's the obvious answer," Ramsey conceded. "Without an address, we'll struggle to find it."

There were too many possible combinations of words and letters and no way to search or scan them. What they needed was access to Cipher's plane. if it hadn't been stripped down, Ramsey could decrypt the hard drives and access the old servers. It seemed whether Hobbs liked it or not, they were going onboard and kicking down the door to Cipher's office.

"Alright, I know I said I wasn't getting on that thing but . . . what if we did use Cipher's plane?" Roman interrupted, a smile on his face that said he'd just solved their problem. "It ain't like they blew it up so all the computers would still be logged in, wouldn't they? Ain't nobody gotta fly it. We just leave it on the ground where it is."

"Good idea, man," Tej clapped him on the shoulder. "We were just thinking the exact same thing."

"See? What did I say? Great minds!" Roman gestured between them. He'd told them in the car that there were two teams: the whole team and their team. Their team would be the one to catch Cipher, assuming Tej did his part. "The three of us together? Unstoppable. I told y'all we got this."

"Man, two days ago you were shitting your pants."

"The woman tried to blow my ass up with a torpedo. When you gonna cut me some slack?"

"Never." He shook his head. Tej looked around the warehouse then back up at the glass-walled meeting room above his head. Inside it, he could still see Dom and Co. Good. It was time for another discussion. "Yeah, we need that plane, ASAP."

_And what about the biometric security system? You'd need Cipher's palm print to get inside._ Elizabeth listened as she worked. What they were talking about sounded right. Repurposing outdated tech was one of Cipher's specialties.

She reached for a small piece of C-2 plastic explosive and shaped it into a thick sausage. Once the explosive was stretched enough, she fitted it inside a plastic shell. There was no sense using C-4 if C-2 would do, though instinct said the extra force would be required to shatter the truck's hinges. It was only for testing anyway, to give her a rough idea of how the charges would need to be shaped. Targeted explosives was more Hattie's thing than hers.

"Planning on blowing something up?"

The first thing Elizabeth reached for was the soldering iron. Cold or hot, it was solid metal. Hand on the rubber grip, she glanced up to see Letty stood to her right, mug in hand. Beth relaxed back against her seat, heart beating a little faster from Letty's sudden appearance. Clearly it didn't matter who snuck up on her; regardless of gender, her survival instincts still kicked in.

Letty stepped back when Shaw (Volkova, whatever) gripped the iron. Jumpy much? "Hey, you good?"

"Yeah." She released the iron, shifted her grip to the arms of her chair. I just don't like being snuck up on."

"My bad."

Elizabeth shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. As with any sudden formation of a team, there'd be a learning curve eventually. She only had to weather it till they figured each other out. "And yes, I'm planning on blowing something up, once Hobbs arranges for a truck to be delivered."

"Ah, shit, so you're our Firuz," Letty chuckled. When her brain caught up with her mouth, her casual attitude faltered a little. The name had just slipped out and the memories with it. Them arriving at the yard, Ivory and Jah shooting the place up. Her standing there realising what just happened, what Owen's real orders were. "I take it you won't be driving with us then."

"No." She shook her head, propped her feet up on the desk and crossed her arms behind her head. If she told Letty that going over a hundred scared her, she'd probably laugh, or look at her like Elizabeth was crazy to be there if she couldn't handle being behind the wheel of a car at high speed. "All I get to do is sit here and wait, and wonder if my brothers are coming back.

Well that was morbid, not that Letty could blame her. Mia was probably thinking the exact same thing. Elena too. Herself as well, years ago. "I don't think they'll get taken out that easily."

"Tell that to Owen and Riley." For a moment, a brief flash of pain crossed Letty's face. Good. It seemed she remembered. Elizabeth didn't look at Letty when she spoke again, but she imagined there was another momentary reaction. "Doctors said it was a miracle he survived while she didn't. They found her dead in a ditch and him on a hillside, wishing he was."

"Letty knows what happened, Beth." Owen's voice carried across the room as he approached them. He hadn't heard most of their conversation but Riley's name had reached his ears. Was Elizabeth playing the patience game already? "She was there. They all were."

"You aren't the only one who lost a friend." Letty turned to face Owen. Whatever Elizabeth knew, she had a feeling it wasn't the complete truth. Owen Shaw was like a sphinx, all riddles and half-truths. You never knew if what he was telling you was what he thought you wanted to hear, or if the words coming from his mouth were genuine. "Your brother killed one of ours."

"Your friend made a mistake." He seated himself on a spare chair besides the desk. If Toretto wanted to force a distance between them, he was going to have to play bodyguard for Letty, or become a controlling, overbearing husband, in which case Letty would immediately push back against him. Either way, Toretto's behaviour would play right into his hands. "You make a mistake, you pay the—"

"One more word out of you and my boot gets planted in your face." Elizabeth stretched her leg towards him, glaring at Owen. "I don't want you scaring off one of the only other women in the building with your creepy fucking attitude."

"Trust me," Letty said, a hint of amusement to her voice, "your brother doesn't scare me."

She would give Owen this much: he had good timing. Toretto was upstairs, Letty was downstairs, and Wilson was seated a good fifteen metres away, watching her. The more they snarked at one another, the more casual they seemed. Elizabeth had told him she needed an in, and as a dutiful older brother, he was providing it.

"You can't be serious," Elizabeth said, tilting her head to look up at Letty. There was something about her that Elizabeth couldn't put her finger on. It wasn't her appearance, as beautiful as she was, nor her slightly rough voice that might've sent a shiver down her spine given the opportunity. Whatever it was, it made her feel at home, almost welcomed, like Letty was used to collecting strays. "He looks like Pazuzu, and when you make him angry, his head spins around."

_Ain't that the truth._ Letty tried to muffle her laughter with her hands. If she looked up at Dom and the others, would they have heard her? She proceeded to hold up her hands, palms outward, in mock apology. "No comment."

"Alright." Owen groaned. He hadn't seen Elizabeth like this since the day before she turned eighteen, giggling and laughing with Hattie. Nor Letty since the last time she and Vegh had been together in the same room, talking trash about some wanker at a street race. Despite their differences, Vegh had taken to Letty like a duck to water. "If all you're going to do is sit there and chat, the least you can do is make me a builders."

"You can get it yourself." Elizabeth waved him off. "I still need to double-check that the Gurney equation's right."

"That's the one that tells you the initial velocity of shrapnel, isn't it?" Despite threatening to make Klaus 'Team Pussy', Letty had paid attention when he and Ivory started talking jargon. Never in her life had Letty thought she'd use the information but there it was. "If you need a calculator, I've got a cell right here."

She sat upright, dropping her feet and staring at Letty in surprise. There wasn't anything about her that suggested she was an explosives technician and yet she knew the Gurney equation? Wow. Now Elizabeth was impressed. She, Letty, really was one hell of a woman. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Letty pulled her phone from her pocket and set it on the desk. She knew the basics of the math Shaw was trying to do. It wasn't pretty. "Can't get a signal but everything else still works."

"Oh thank you, God." Elizabeth snatched it up and opened the calculator, quickly typing in the equation. "Mine's back in Cuba. I didn't even get to pack a bag before they grabbed me. I haven't changed clothes in almost two days and my dating life just went down the—"

Right. That was all irrelevant now, nor did anyone need to know that she even had a dating life. Least of all did they need to be told how long the three of them had been stuck there for. Beth wrote down the results on the screen next to the rest of her notes then handed the phone back to Letty with a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Letty pocketed her cell and took off towards the mezzanine. Not all Shaws were assholes, it seemed. That was good to know. "No problem. Come find me when that truck gets here, will you?"

"Sure." She smiled and watched Letty walk off. Pen in hand, Elizabeth tapped it against her bottom lip and turned herself around to stare over Owen's shoulder. _I just have to ask Hobbs for it first._ "Of course."

Once Letty was out of earshot, Owen scooted his chair closer to the desk. Clearly that had gone off without a hitch. Internally, Beth would be beaming. Everything about her posture had changed. A light that normally only Hattie could bring about had returned to her eyes too. "You like her already, don't you?"

"That has no bearing on—" She groaned and stood, grabbed the styrofoam cup off her desk and gestured towards the kitchenette at the other end of the warehouse. Time for a tea break. "Yes, I like her, and if I'd met her in a bar five days ago, I would've seduced her fucking pants off."

"You're smitten."

"I've talked to her twice, Owen. Show a little class."

"You kissed Lisa Collins on the first date."

"Lisa Collins doesn't count." Besides, she'd been sixteen. Although given his limited knowledge of her dating life, it was no surprise he was dredging up what was more or less ancient history. "And my general rule of thumb is I don't get involved with married women, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate them from afar."


	15. Chapter 15

"It's too risky."

"Everything is a risk, Hobbs. Doesn't change the fact they're right about this." Letty stood in the doorway, looking at him as if he were no more than some local cop in her way. After leaving the Shaws in her proverbial rear view, she'd followed Tej and the others upstairs. Like Letty had told herself at the house, she was the one who'd be taking charge of the mission. "We need access to that plane."

"Unfortunately it's still on the other side of the country."

"You left it in New York?" Deckard looked at Hobbs as if he'd just said they'd handed the plane back to Cipher. What good was it sitting there when the team were here? "Tell me they at least kept the cargo bay doors open."

"I don't know, Deckard. I'm not the one running the goddamn show." They all seemed to defer to him, rely on him, yet none of them noticed he wasn't the top of the food chain anymore. This was Mr. Nobody's building, not his, and he certainly wasn't about to risk his career by stepping on any toes. The hierarchy never liked it when people with field experience embraced the fact they knew more than the assholes at the top of the ladder.

"Then point me in the direction of who is," Letty interrupted. "Getting on that plane is the only thing that gets us close to Cipher. Your truck could be anywhere, in any country. Without a license plate, it's a needle in a haystack."

"Splitting the team up this early is a bad idea." Brian leaned towards Dom. "We need to start working on those cars. It's gonna take all hands on deck to get it done."

"Reisner, make the call," Luke relented. He might not be in charge but the kid was still susceptible to a fist up his ass. "Get them access to that plane."

"I—" Little Nobody swallowed and looked away, avoiding catching anyone's eye. How was he meant to tell them it'd been under their noses the entire time? "They were in the process of dismantling it when—"

Jesus Christ. It had exploded, Deckard thought, hadn't it? They couldn't get onboard the plane because there was nothing left of it but shrapnel. "Spit it out."

"They transported it here two weeks ago but someone triggered the security system. We can't get back inside."

"What about your handprint, Toretto? Can it open any doors?"

"No."

"Owen?"

"No." For once, it wasn't a lie. It sounded like Cipher had kept that plane locked up tighter than Fort Knox if they were talking biometrics. Not to mention he'd been onboard a grand total of zero times prior to their rescue of Baby Toretto. There was a reason Owen had said he'd enjoy having it. "I didn't know she had a plane."

_Guess it's time to blow something up._ Letty caught Ramsey's eye and gestured towards the door. If the plane really was here, they only had to find it and crack it open like a sardine can. Shaw could rig up a charge or two, or cut through the fuselage. If not, Ramsey had her laptop. With any luck, her hacking skills would do them some good.

Letty exited the room without another word, Ramsey on her tail, and rushed downstairs. "Shaw, grab whatever you need to blow or cut a hole in a plane."

"What?" A plane? What the hell was Letty talking about? Unless Ortiz planned on trashing the plane that was due to arrive by tonight with the rest of their cars, there was nothing to blow up. Elizabeth glanced up warily from a small circuit board and watched Letty start up the Corvette.

"Davai!" _Let's go!_

"I'm busy." With all signals jammed, there was no way to connect to an external network, sans a workaround of course. The board on her desk was it. If she could cobble together a transmitter, get that Pi, a touchscreen GPS to serve as a display, and subsequently find a satellite dish on a roof somewhere, Elizabeth would have all she needed to piggyback their network. Assuming this makeshift monstrosity worked. "Ask someone else."

"We all are, and I'm asking you. Cipher's plane is around here somewhere so I need you to pack up your shit and bring it with you."

Cipher's—

_God's sake._ She slid the circuitry back into its plastic bag and sealed it, disconnected her tools from the power sockets. Elizabeth muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she walked towards the car. "You're bossy, you know that?"

Letty smiled. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No." Yes. Maybe. As long as Ortiz avoided unknowingly crossing any personal boundaries. Not that Letty would cross them — she didn't seem the type in more ways than one. Elizabeth climbed into the Corvette and sat, one leg in the car, one out.

"You know, I said grab your shit."

"We won't need it."

She was about to ask why when Letty glanced down. Deckard had asked Dom about his handprint. The way Shaw was sitting there, clenching and unclenching her fists, said the answer was right in front of her. "So how long did you work for Cipher?"

Elizabeth turned toward her and looked Letty in the eye; with one hand on the dash, Beth was as ready as she'd ever be to hop out of the car at a moment's notice. "Who said I worked for her?"

"She went after Deckard first. When he refused, she approached your other brother." That assumed Elizabeth was actually their sister. The last thing she needed was another one of Owen Shaw's girlfriends popping up out of nowhere. "Why not you as well?"

"If you're trying to accuse me of something, either spit it out or start the car."

That was a little aggressive, even by Letty's standards. All she'd done was ask a question. "I'm not making accusations. I just want to know if you worked for the bitch that kidnapped my family."

"No, I didn't work for her." At no point had Cipher ever insinuated Elizabeth was her employee. She hadn't been paid a salary or wage, only a commission. Theirs had been a relationship based on mutual benefit, and her strong desire to keep Owen alive. "What are you trying to figure out, Letty?"

"Should I come back later?" Ramsey said, leaning down to look into the car. She glanced at the two occupied front seats and what amounted to a small storage space behind them. "And, um, how exactly are we going to fit ourselves and our gear in here?"

"We're not." Elizabeth stepped out of the car, ducking under Ramsey's arm. "If you're going to cut through fuselage, you'll need torches, and some way of reaching it. I don't see any ropes around, do you?"

"You planning on going somewhere, Shaw?"

Oh for God's sake. "No, I'm not," she said, shooting Hobbs a look as he approached. It was always something with these people, wasn't it? Hobbs wanted her to steal billions of dollars, Letty wanted her to punch a hole through a plane, and Owen — he only asked for commitment and loyalty, something of hers he already had. "But your teammate over there is."

"Well I'm sure Letty can handle herself."

Behind him, Toretto stared towards Letty, and O'Conner stood next to him. Tej and Roman looked at each other then at Ramsey while Deckard kept his eyes on Hobbs.

Shaw was hiding something. That whole double name thing, the way Owen seemed to allow himself to be made the butt of a joke when he normally would've glowered and threatened the person; her resorting to aggression when a simple 'yes' or 'no' would've sufficed. Everything about her sounded like a red flag. _Who are you?_

The woman just didn't quit, did she, Elizabeth thought. What did Ortiz want to hear? It was all in her file, the one Hobbs undoubtedly had stashed somewhere in an office. If she wanted to hash it all out, the end result would be Letty — or Toretto, either one was fine with her — on the floor with Elizabeth's fist in her face. "I don't ask you questions about your past, don't ask me about mine."

_I knew we should've called Hattie._ Deckard cringed, avoiding eye contact with either Owen or his sister as he stood there. Beth returned to her desk in silence and busied herself while Letty stared daggers at her back. His sister's words hadn't gone unheard, however. What exactly had Ortiz been asking? And why?

"So what's the plan, Letty?" Dom asked, breaking the tension. "You got the whole team here."

"Little Nobody gives us the plane's location. We cut a hole in the roof and get inside through the cavity."

"Alright." Brian smiled at Dom. "But this won't be like that train in Brazil, man. We're gonna have to drill a hole first, get a camera in there before we start cutting."

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? The team. Letty had the team at her back, always, and it didn't include the Shaws or Hobbs. The former would always be the enemy, the latter a federal agent sworn to uphold the law. Hobbs had been serious in Vladovin when he'd talked of taking Dom down, and she just as serious when she told him that he'd have to take her down too.

"Yo Little," Roman nudged him, "where is it then?"

"Three klicks west of here, in the hangar at the end of the runway."

"What the hell is a klick? You wanna try speaking English?"

* * *

"I thought you said you liked her." Owen dropped onto the same chair he'd sat on earlier. He rested his elbow on the desk, chin in his hand. "What was all that about?"

"I did, until she opened her mouth."

"Ah. Did she—"

"She wanted to know if I worked for Cipher. A hundred rubles says she thinks I'm secretly your girlfriend and that this entire thing is a farce." To no one's surprise, they'd played that game before. Some people were just so paranoid they chose to believe lies over the the truth. A kiss on the cheek here, a hug there — it was nothing outside the normal range of friendly, conniving, sibling interactions. No boundaries or lines were crossed and no one got hurt. "I suppose we could always play to expectations and make it one."

"Deckard's here." This wasn't exactly some quick con job, or an escape. Usually their acting skills were reserved for simple jobs, the kind where no one would ever see them again, or false alibis. More than once had Owen found himself facing some bloke with a gun, demanding back the money Owen had stolen from him. Elizabeth or Hattie, whoever was in earshot, would then walk in and cause a scene. Nine out of ten times, it'd worked. "You know he always complicates things."

Right. Elizabeth thrust her lower lip forward in a pout. "Guess I'll go sign the divorce papers then."

"I wouldn't expect any alimony."

"Cheapskate."

He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. Was it any wonder he didn't buy her nice things? Owen sighed exasperatedly and leaned back in his seat. Another day or two and they'd be past all these misunderstandings. Unlike him, Beth hadn't had a chance to see Ortiz in her native habitat. "Letty has a tendency to cut through the bullshit, and yours is to be overly defensive and closed-off."

The only reason Letty would be told the truth was if Elizabeth felt like talking. So far, she didn't appear interested. There were only three people in the building who knew some of the things she'd done and two of them were family. Letty knowing anything wouldn't change their current situation, however. And in any case, it wasn't Ortiz's business who she'd worked for (or with). "I'm not closed-off. I just prefer to leave the past where it belongs."

"Defensive as ever, I see," he said in a teasing tone. There were only so many people who could rile Beth up without her immediately biting their head off, and he, Deckard, Hattie and their mother were it. "Here's an idea: talk to her later. Apologise. You have an in with Letty, and now you need to gain her trust. I know it'll pain you but honesty goes a long way."

"And when she blabs it all to Toretto? I'm not telling her a damn thing."

"Consider it a strategy adjustment. Letty can keep a secret as well as us. Make it clear you're talking to her in the strictest confidence and she'll respect it."

The only adjustment she needed was some new clothes and Elizabeth knew exactly where to find them. The downside was she'd have to get onboard that plane, open the door to Cipher's bedroom slash armoury, and slip out, all without being noticed. Something which she might just pull off with Letty's help. "I hate when you're right."

"Don't look now but the passenger seat in her car just became available." Owen glanced past Elizabeth's head and thrust his legs out, stretching them. Arms above his head, he yawned, eyes fixed on Toretto stepping away to talk to Hobbs. They'd gathered climbing gear — including ropes, harnesses and extra clips from a set of containers on the shelves that ran along the northern wall — and assembled as if this were some attempt at displaying professionalism. "I'd say you have a ten second window of opportunity."

"You said talk to her later."

"It's later."

Well, she really did want those clothes. Elizabeth grumbled, stood and jogged toward the car with Letty inside it. Ten seconds was right. By the time she reached the Corvette and slid into the car, Toretto was three feet away. "Sorry," Elizabeth said as she shut the door. "I need a moment with your wife."

"Thought you weren't coming." Letty didn't so much as look at her. She started the car up and drove straight to the lift, aligning the wheels with the tape on the floor. "Guess this means you want to talk."

"Want to? No." Damn Owen for talking sense. "But my brother made a point about me being—"

"Did you work for Cipher?"

_She has a tendency to cut through the bullshit._ God, why did this woman have to have so much baggage? Letty was perfect from head to toe and those eyes, the way she looked at her — It was as if Ortiz were some fallen angel who'd gotten kicked out of Heaven for the crime of existing. The embodiment of fire and rebellion. "Sort of. It was about five years ago. I built bombs for Owen, he paid the money and Cipher played intermediary. We hit it off. Sue me."

"So if you put your hand on one of those scanners, your print would unlock doors?"

"Yes."

Well it was about time Shaw was honest. Owen was the one who acted like an asshole but that generally described his entire personality. Compared to him, Elizabeth didn't seem the type. As warm as Shaw made Elsa from Frozen look, it seemed little more than a defense mechanism. "Are you still in contact with Cipher?"

"Not anymore."

When the lift became level with the ground, Letty drove out into the sunlight and onto the vast expanse of space that Little Nobody had said was a runway. She looked at Elizabeth, the slight tan on her face and arms. "Did you work with Cipher last year?"

"No. Four years ago, I was in Moscow." Fuck the details. Letty didn't need to hear a goddamn sob story. "Hobbs showed up. He was hunting Owen. I ran, Hobbs chased. A billion dollars was on the line and I wasn't about to screw that up."

"You got caught?"

"Uh-huh. Next thing I know I'm in cuffs and on a plane to Guantanamo Bay."

"How'd you get out?"

"Connections. Twiddled my thumbs for eighteen months before a lawyer," Elizabeth made quotes with her fingers, "arrived. Been living in Cuba ever since."

"You weren't involved in what went down in Spain then."

She rested her head against the window and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back. "No. I didn't know any of that till Owen dumped it all on me during the flight from London to here two days ago. When he told me Riley was dead—"

Elizabeth's voice cracked. She swallowed, clenched her fists, forced herself to keep breathing. She could feel her nose starting to clog up, throat beginning to tighten. The Corvette hummed around her as Letty drove; the noise gave her something to focus on. Jesus, what was this, an episode of Jerry Springer?

"It feels like someone just ripped your fucking heart out of your chest," Letty said, tightening her grip on the wheel. She glanced across at Shaw to make sure she hadn't torn a hole in the seat, or damaged the interior in anyway. "And now you're expected to get it together and keep it that way, right? Yeah. I've been there."

That was exactly it. ". . . Who'd you lose?"

"Ivory. Vegh. Klaus. Adolfson. Denlinger. Jah. We worked together for your brother. We were the ones he hired to steal and build your billion dollar Nightshade device. I told myself I wasn't going to get emotionally involved but no-strings-attached probably wasn't the best way to avoid that."

Elizabeth tried not to laugh but the smile on Letty's face was plain. She smiled too instead, sat up and swept her fringe back out of her eyes. Was this what honesty felt like? What it sounded like? She hadn't been this open with anyone in a long time. There was a dull ache in her chest and her legs were a little cramped from the lack of room, but Elizabeth pushed the feelings aside.

"Anyway, Ivory got shot and killed after Owen decided to clean house, and the others died in Spain. The whole plane went up in flames."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well it's all in the past for me. Not so much for you."

A snort came out as Elizabeth laughed. Wasn't that the truth? "Owen said you like to cut through the bullshit."

He'd said that? What else had that son of a bitch been telling her? Why exactly had they been talking about her in the first place? "Shit, man, I've lost too many people and been through too much to let grief destroy me. Eventually you just find an outlet so it doesn't eat you up . . . God, I sound like a fucking therapist, don't I? Guess I should charge you for the past ten minutes, but I'll take an IOU if you don't have cash."

"An IOU?" she said incredulously. "You are too kind. Once I can access the internet, I'll wire you some money."

"Sorry, cash only. We could work out some other method of payment though."

"The fun kind or the boring kind?"

Letty looked her up and down, taking in the smirk on Shaw's face. Talk about an unapologetic flirt. If she'd been around when they were younger and tried that shit on Dom, Letty would've beaten her ass. Skanks were one thing but a girl who wouldn't quit had to be taught a lesson. As it stood now, she didn't mind the attention. It felt kind of nice knowing she could still catch someone's eye besides Dom's. "You're hopeless, you know that?"

"And you're beautiful but you don't hear me complaining."

"Alright." Letty reached over and shoved her playfully. "You help me work on my car and we both pretend this conversation never happened."

A wolf-whistle escaped her before Letty could push her again. "I help you with your car, we pretend this conversation didn't take place," Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, "and you don't tell anyone my handprint can open the door to Cipher's bedroom."

"Her—" She eased up on the accelerator, finally came to a halt and parked outside the hangar. The doors were closed but it looked large enough to store a dismembered plane alright. "Did you two—"

"No." Elizabeth stepped out of the car, wiped her eyes with her sleeve and leaned against the side of the Corvette. "Screwing your boss complicates things, and Cipher was a little too OTT."

"You can say that again."

"The boss part or . . . Wait. You and Owen never slept together, did you?" God, if they had, that was something she really didn't want to think about. As comfortable as the four Shaw siblings were around each other, none of them had ever willingly broached the topic of their sex lives. No matter how much their mother had tried to talk about the birds and bees, what happened in the bedroom stayed in the bedroom.

"Screwing your boss complicates things," Letty mimicked. "You gonna raid her closet or something?"

"Pretty much. She had some nice boots last time we met."

"Let me guess: no one knows about your connection with Cipher." Letty could hear Dom and the others approaching. One minute and the team would be right beside them. "That's why Hobbs is looking for that truck."

"Hobbs is looking for it because I told him about it. Listen, Letty, I've never cooperated with a single cop in my life, but he has my brothers' heads on a chopping block." Maybe if Ortiz knew what was at stake, she'd be more likely to keep her mouth shut. "One wrong move and they're back in prison and my family gets torn apart again. I can't put Mum through that, or—"

Or Hattie. Hattie with her butt-ugly blonde hair and that stupid grin on her face, the only one of them who looked remotely like their mother; Hattie, the sister they would all kill to protect; the person they jointly loved more than anyone else. The bratty punk who could knock someone out with a cricket bat, and the kid sister Elizabeth willingly walked out on.

_Join the club._ "I once cooperated with the FBI for Dom's sake. Word of advice? Prison's better than a cemetery."

She was right. Elizabeth wouldn't admit it aloud but Ortiz had hit the nail on the head. At least Owen and Deckard would be alive and imprisoned. Beth pushed off the car and looked towards the Gurkha and Dodge as Hobbs and Dom parked next to them. There was a slight redness to her eyes and face, she'd noticed in her reflection, but nothing that couldn't be explained away by the heat.

"Who's got the keys?" Letty asked. She walked over to Dom as he stepped out, slipped her arm around his waist and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on, Reisner, we've been waiting all morning for your ass to catch up."

"Hang on, this thing's on roller doors. I just need to—"

Hobbs shook his head and approached the smaller, human-size door on the left. He lifted his foot, lined it up with the handle and delivered two hard blows to the door. It gave way with a high-pitch groan as the metal bent beneath his boot. "Ladies first."

"Thanks, Hobbs." Letty walked inside the hangar with Dom in tow. The plane was propped up on its wheels, the wings removed and stacked flat beside it. "This is it?" she asked Dom. staring up at the enormous transmitter attached to the roof. Sunlight poured into the hangar through the door, illuminating the room enough for them to see the plane's bulk. "Dom?"

_"I think I need to remind you why you chose to be here."_ The memory of Elena behind the glass with Marcus flashed through his mind as Dom nodded, shifting his eyes towards the rear of the plane. "That's it."

"Good," Hobbs said. "Let's rip it open."

"One question: did you check for bombs?"

"Whoa, hold on." Roman looked at Deckard as he, Tej, Ramsey, Little Nobody, Dom and Letty assembled just inside the doorway. "What bombs? No one said anything about _bombs!_"

"I promise you we scanned the entire thing," Little Nobody said. "There are no explosive devices concealed within the fuselage."

Roman nodded in relief, a faint smile on his face. The last thing he needed was someone setting his ass on fire. "Good. That's good."

"What about an anchor?"

"There's a crane on the other side," Little Nobody said, gesturing to the far corner. "It'll give us the height we need."

"Only one person has to get inside and open the doors, right?" Rome looked at Tej as if to say 'back me up'. "The rest of us can just wait out here where it's safe? Always one of those emergency buttons somewhere."

"What about hatches?"

"Welded shut." Deckard said, voice echoing inside the hangar as he ducked beneath the plane. He touched a sealed hatch that likely would've led to a luggage compartment once upon a time. "Cipher didn't want anyone getting in."

"Less talking," Hobbs tossed two bags down on the floor. Elizabeth was right behind him, two bags slung over her shoulders and one gripped in both hands. She dropped them, rolled her shoulders then unzipped all five bags. "More unpacking. And someone turn on the goddamn lights."

* * *

"Feed me another foot of line, Decks." Elizabeth clutched the rope in her hands, easing it through her gloved grip. Why she'd agreed to get up on the roof of a goddamn plane, she didn't know, but it probably had something to do with the look Letty had given her. The look that said if Elizabeth wanted access to that room, she'd be the one doing most of the work.

Her boots still weren't touching the roof, Beth noted, unlike Letty's. Her brother and Hobbs were working the ropes while the others watched from the ground. Everything was tinted green through their welding masks, Hobbs included. He really did look like the Hulk, Ortiz insisted, but Beth couldn't see the resemblance.

"Drill, check, cut," Letty muttered to herself as she eased the power tool out from her bag. The enormous hangar bay doors were finally open too, filling the building with light. "Sounds easy enough."

"There'll be power cables running the length of the roof cavity." Whatever they did, they couldn't sever a single one or this thing would turn into a giant electrified coffin. "One inch wrong and it'll make getting struck by lightning seem like fun."

"Y'know, your brother should be the one up here doing this."

"Too bad I don't trust anyone else with my life."

"I meant the other one. Owen's the reason we're in this mess."

Their wilful ignorance was the real reason but Elizabeth wasn't going to run her mouth now.

Hole after hole Letty drilled. Every time they checked, there was some kind of cabling in the way. After thirty minutes of carefully working her way along the fuselage, however, she finally found a clear space towards the pilot's end. Elizabeth took her time cutting, never lifting her gaze from the metal. Letty kept her eyes on the camera feed, watching from a few feet away for the first sign that they had gotten through.

Another thirty minutes passed and finally, Letty glimpsed the flame flicker into view. "Shaw, hold it! We're in!"

The torch was turned off and left behind her to cool. Elizabeth gripped the ropes and stood, only to slam her foot down on the newly-made hatch. The fuselage gave way, falling and clattering against the inner roof. She could feel the heat from the metal through her boot. Given the size of the hatch, less than three feet wide and two-point-five feet length-wise, Elizabeth didn't want to risk third-degree burns by touching the edges.

"Fuck waiting," she muttered. The inner roof would only have to bear her weight for a moment. If she dropped down, hit it and rolled, the likelihood of collapse was minimal. "Deckard, I'm unclipping myself."

"No! I can lower you in."

"Not with any amount of accuracy."

"I knew we should've brought nitrogen." Letty swore under her breath. "It's always you Shaws getting me into some risky shit, isn't it?"

"If you didn't like it, you'd have walked away by now." Elizabeth detached herself from the cabling, shuffled forward towards the gaping hole in the plane, then jumped. Arms above her head, she felt a slight pain as her right hand brushed the fuselage. Her feet hit the metal floor of the roof cavity. Immediately, Elizabeth rolled sideways on impact. Letty tossed her their two bags less than a moment later then she scrambled out of the way with them before Letty jumped down as well, landing with a thud.

"So where's this bedroom?"

"Down below. There should be—"

"The hatch is two feet behind you."

Oh. Good. Elizabeth pushed herself up into a crouch, turned around, and edged forward to lift the maintenance hatch open. Beneath her, the creamy carpeted interior of a hallway stretched in either direction. "There's two levels. Wooden stairs are somewhere towards the tail. Her bedroom and office were on the lower level, I think."

"You think?"

"It's been a while. If you wanted an accurate layout, maybe you should've asked your husband."

"We had a fucking heart to heart and now you're going back to the ice queen act?" One minute Shaw was nice, the next she was saying shit like that? "Jesus."

"Sod off. You said he was on here only a few months ago. His memory of it would be better than mine."

Letty raised her hands in surrender before lowering herself through the hatch. She landed on the carpet, stepping aside for Shaw. Their bags were dropped down first. "My bad. Point made. You go get yourself some clothes while I check the cabin for a big button that says 'open sesame'."

"Fingers crossed there's anything left." For all Elizabeth knew, Little Nobody's government buddies had stripped the plane's interior and taken whatever wasn't bolted down. Her feet hit the carpet below with a soft thump. "Guess I''ll see you downstairs."

"Don't take too long."

Who was she? Magdalene? Beth didn't need a reminder of the fact her window of opportunity was closing with each passing second. The more time she took, the more grouchy Hobbs and Deckard would become. "Sure thing," Elizabeth muttered, walking in the opposite direction, "_Boss_."


	16. Chapter 16

"Nice job." Dom took the bags from her the moment the cargo bay doors slid open. _I knew you could do it._ "You alright, Letty?"

"I'm good." She patted him on the shoulder. Shaw was somewhere far behind her, staring at the destruction rained on the interior during Marcus's rescue. Elizabeth had tossed the other bag at her in the hallway, said something about the office door being left open and 'thanks for the help'. "Ramsey, Tej, you're up!"

"Man, I've been waiting to get ahold of this shit." Tej rubbed his hands together as he ascended the ramp, gawking at the stacks of servers on the far left. "Damn, we're going to need a trolley to get all this offloaded."

"Who said anything about disconnecting it?" Ramsey shook her head in disbelief. It would take hours to label, remove and reassemble everything in a SCIF room. That was more time than they could afford to waste. "Leave it where it is. There could be a power surge if we trip something."

"Good point." For all they knew, Cipher had some kind of failsafe programmed or wired into her equipment. Better safe than sorry. "Where do you wanna start?"

"Dom said she had an office?"

He nodded and gestured over his shoulder. Dom had memorised every inch of the plane's layout before tracking down Deckard's mother and meeting her in the pub. "Go past the couches and keep on going till you reach the last hallway. There'll be a corner door on the right-hand side, but it's—"

"Shaw already hotwired it," Letty said. "It's open."

What Elizabeth had failed to mention to Letty was the bedroom had been stripped clean. No weapons, no clothes, no sheets. Everything that might have had trace evidence on it was gone. _Damn it._ She stepped carefully, avoiding the shattered glass spread over the carpet and the tipped-over lounge chairs. _What a mess._ Her eyes ghosted over the blood stains, the bullet holes — Elizabeth didn't want to know the details of what her brothers had done.

The office had also been cleaned out too. The servers in the cabinet behind Cipher's desk were still there, her computer too, but the spare clothes stashed in a wardrobe had been removed along with the leather chairs. After checking over the room, she cut a hole in the wall and killed the door's motor.

"It's down here," Toretto's voice carried down the corridor. Footsteps overlayed footsteps, and soon enough, Dom and Letty passed Elizabeth with Tej and Ramsey in tow. "And there's another room back that way," he gestured. "It was where they congregated during jobs."

Elizabeth hurried toward the open cargo bay, keeping her eyes focused on what was ahead of her. If she looked at the floor, noticed the slight red streaks on the soles of her boots, Beth was pretty sure she'd throw up then and there. _Don't look. Don't think about it. Someone just spilled a ton of wine._

The moment her feet hit metal, she rushed through the bay, down the ramp, past Hobbs and Deckard, and ducked outside.

"Wh—" The faint sound of dry retching reached Luke's ears. Well that answered that question. "Now we just need to find that truck," he said to himself. That presumed it existed. For all Hobbs knew, Elizabeth had lied through her teeth. "And lock her up permanently."

"You think they'll break it?" Deckard looked towards Hobbs. He didn't doubt Ramsey's skills, or Parker's. It was less a question of ability than time, and how long they could devote to decryption before they moved onto Hobbs' next winning strategy. "It's not like she's got a quantum computer in that bag."

"You're the IT guy," Luke said. "You tell me."

"That was nearly two years ago. Move on."

"You almost killed Elena."

"And I've said I'm sorry for that. She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Neves was a nice woman. Hobbs wasn't. It didn't take a mathematical genius to figure that out. Deckard pivoted on his boots and left Hobbs to deal with the rest. His car was parked outside and the longer Elizabeth was out there alone, the likelier it was she'd—

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as Hobbs' Gurkha was slowly reversed away from the group of cars. The low rumble of the engine could be heard from the hangar doorway, perhaps even further in. From where Deckard stood, he could just make out Elizabeth in the driver's seat through the tinted windows. At least it wasn't his car, he thought. She and Hattie had generally always respected the sovereignty of his cars, but Owen's was fair game more often than not.

Beth stuck her arm out the window and gave him a thumbs up. Deckard nodded and waved back, waiting till the window was wound up and the Gurkha a good hundred metres away before turning to look at Luke.

"You didn't leave your keys in the ignition, did you, Hobbs?"

"Why? What'd you do, Shaw?"

"Three klicks east, right?" At a casual pace, that had to be a solid forty minute walk with Hobbs' stride. "See you when you get back."

"Goddamn it, Deckard, what did you—" Luke walked outside to the cluster of cars. His own was noticeably absent. _Shit._ "Where did you move it, you sneaky sumbitch?"

"If I were you, I'd think about doing a headcount before making any accusations."

A headcount? The Torettos, Ramsey and Tej were inside the plane. Little Nobody was sitting against the crane. Rome and himself had been standing inside the hangar with—

_One of these Shaws is not like the other._ "Your goddamn sister better hand over those keys before I toss her ass in a cell."

"Guess I'll leave you to it then." Deckard slid inside his black McLaren and immediately locked the doors. The last thing he needed was Hobbs scratching the paint job or ruining the interior. "Enjoy the walk!"

Luke grit his teeth. Walk? Oh there'd be no walking involved. He'd hunted Elizabeth down once before and he'd do it again. At a run, Luke estimated it'd take less than twenty minutes to get back. He'd be pushing himself but it wasn't impossible. That woman had taken his car _and_ his gear inside it. "Reisner, I'll meet you back at the warehouse!"

"Okay!"

* * *

"Yo, Dom, we're gonna be here all night. This encryption is . . ."

"The password is thirteen characters long and Cipher wrote it down on a post-it note." Ramsey laughed, holding the yellow note up above her head. "Tej, try this. It was on the inside of the cupboard door. An expert hacker and she couldn't remember a password that short?"

A post-it note in plain sight? "I thought they cleared everything out." Letty frowned. "How'd they miss that?"

"I don't know and I don't care. If that works—" Tej read the password aloud as he typed. He pressed the enter key, watched the screen turn black . . . and clapped his hands together as the desktop loaded. "Oh shit. I think we're in."

"Say that again?"

"We're in, baby!" Tej slapped the desk and sidestepped so Ramsey could stand besides him. "Alright, Hobbs said we were looking for a truck, right? Then she has to have some kind of GPS software installed on here. Maybe if we're lucky, the last known location will still be logged."

"This could take a while, guys," Ramsey said. "We'll yell out when it's done."

"Okay." Letty tugged Dom out of the office and down the hallway. The idea that the Feds had somehow missed something didn't sit right with Letty, but neither did the idea of hiding the truth from the team. Not that it was hers to tell in the first place. "Since we've got some time to fill, I was thinking we could talk."

Talk? Why not? They could do that anywhere, at any time. Being onboard the plane made his skin crawl but Dom wasn't about to run off because of it. He let her lift his arm and wrap it around her shoulders as Letty guided him towards the cargo hold. "What's up?"

"How would _you_" Letty began, walking by his side, hand clutching Dom's wrist, "feel about expanding our family?"

"You want to invite the Shaws around for a barbeque?"

"No, I'm being serious, Dom," she laughed. As funny as it would be to watch them flounder at the prospect of saying grace, no. "I thought it was about time we asked the question. Brian and Mia have Jack and Sophie, and we have shared custody of Marcus."

So long as Dom didn't assume she was pregnant, there was no harm in talking it over. She didn't have a clue where the nearest drug store was, but it was easy enough to drive back to the coast. Sooner or later she was going to have to face up to reality and buy a test. There just wasn't any sense in getting Dom's and her own hopes up if it was a case of stress or early onset menopause.

"Which question would that be?"

He was really going to make her come out and say it, wasn't he? Letty looked up and smiled at him, catching her reflection in his eyes. The faded scar above his lip was still there too, from when she'd split it open when he was eighteen and dumb. "What if we decided that every other weekend wasn't enough?"

"Elena—" Dom couldn't rip Marcus away from her. He hated not being able to live in the same house as his son but there wasn't a chance in hell he would ever willingly march into a courtroom and demand sole custody. "I couldn't do that to her, Letty."

"Can I finish?"

Was she about to suggest they buy a larger property and move out of Los Angeles?

"What if we wanted more than one Marcus running around?"

His eyes widened in realisation. More than one Marcus? Letty wanted to settle down? Had this come by way of some discussion between herself and Elena, or Letty and his sister? For a moment, Dom had thought she was seriously considering the idea of reconciliation with Jakob. Unless his little brother had changed his attitude in the past thirty years, that wasn't about to happen any time soon. "I don't think it's really the right time to start thinking about kids when—"

"There's never going to be a right time, Dom." She stopped and tugged him close, slid her hands up along the length of his chest and cupped the back of his neck. Dom's skin was warm, smooth under her fingers. Letty had missed having her hands on him, him lifting her up and carrying her into the garage. She especially missed Dom on his knees, staring up at her as if pleading for Letty to take her sunglasses off, her cargos, and look him in the eyes. "If it's ever gonna happen, it'll be when we make it happen."

"Where's all this coming from, Letty?" he asked. Had something changed? Was she — No, that was crazy. They used protection every time. Letty herself was still on birth control too. There was no chance she was pregnant. They'd talked about it over the years but the question hadn't come up, and then suddenly he'd thought she was gone for good.

All Dom's ideas and plans had turned into what ifs and maybes.

"I just got to thinking," Letty said. It wasn't a total lie. She had been thinking. A lot. Wondering if she was ready to be a full-time mom. Asking herself how she would cope with the physical changes, the hormones and doctors appointments. "We lost each other for all those years and I guess I've been imagining what it would've been like if things played out differently."

"Me? I wouldn't change what happened." Dom seized her by the thighs and lifted her, leaned back against the plane wall. The way her eyes lit up, the smile on her face, made him light up too. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, carry her to their motel room and show her just how differently things might have 'played out'. "Losing you tore me apart, Letty, but I'm stronger for it now. I went through hell and you were still there in the end."

* * *

She ducked her head under the running shower and rested her forehead against the cold tiles, depressing the soap pump furiously. Elizabeth scrubbed her hands together and lathered herself up from forehead to toes. The acrid taste of bile still lingered in her mouth while the acid stung her throat. Her stomach ached and spasmed as if she were still bent over the toilet but Beth grit her teeth, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed through her abdomen as best she could.

Her boots were in a bin beneath the sink, red flakes and streaks clinging to the outer soles. Blood on her shoes. On her hands. Spatter on her face; her ex on the bed, lifeless. She squeezed her eyes shut and punched the tiled wall, whimpered into her chest at the sudden burst of pain. The image in her head cleared instantly, leaving only the cold sensation of reality. _Jesus. I need to get the hell out of here. Let Deckard deal with the mess he made._

Elizabeth turned around, slumped back against the wall and slid down till she felt the cold shower floor beneath her. This wasn't her mess to clean up. None of this had anything to do with her. If only she'd stood there with Magdalene instead of getting involved, turned a blind eye to whatever shit her brothers were neck-deep in. Deckard and Owen could more than handle themselves but still she tried to protect them. _Idiot,_ she berated herself. _Every damn time they get you._

"Shaw!" Hobbs' voice came from somewhere outside. The shower and closed door muffled his words. "Goddamn it, woman, all you had to do was ask."

It always came down to her brothers. It was never Hattie, was it? Hattie didn't go on rampages in tanks or trash a hospital. No, she was the good sibling among them. The one who'd learned what not to do from the insanity that'd surrounded her. Or so Beth thought. That whole ETEON incident painted their sister in a new light: only Hattie would choose to infect herself with a bioweapon instead of letting it be stolen.

_You went and signed up for it._ She scrubbed herself clean till her skin was raw and the soap pump empty, hot water streaming down her body, washing away any traces that might've been on her. _There's still a job to finish. Walk away now and you'll never see a pound._

"Shaw, what the hell—" Luke stepped into the bathroom and looked toward the corner shower cubicle. Clothes were folded over the top of the door and the foot-high gap at the base of it showed a set of knees. _Shit._ He looked away before his eyes could slide upwards, busying himself with opening the closet to his left and fetching a fresh towel. That solved that mystery. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "You wanna leave some hot water for the rest of us?"

_Hobbs?!_ Elizabeth's head hit the tap as she scrambled to her feet. "Shit!" What the hell was he doing coming in without knocking? She winced, rubbing her scalp with one hand while she turned the shower off with her other.

". . . Would you like a towel?"

"Otvali!" _Get out!_

"I don't speak Russian."

Perhaps he could go learn some then. "What the fuck are you doing in here?!"

"You stole my car, woman."

Oh come on! She'd left it outside, undamaged. Elizabeth pulled her bra off a hook on the back of the door and quickly slipped it on. She dressed as fast as she could — stuffed her socks in her pockets — and wiped her hands over her face. Elizabeth put her hair up and left it to drip water down her back.

"Next time, don't leave the keys in the ignition." She unlocked the shower door and stepped out of the cubicle. Eyes on the floor, she waddled towards the bathroom door, careful not to lose her footing. Stole his car? She'd borrowed it in an emergency. Although she considered it more along the lines of commandeering when compared to theft, regardless of the badge that was noticeably absent from her pants. "Puta madré."

"I think you're missing a pair of shoes."

Fist clenched around the handle, she looked back over her shoulder at him. _Damn it, don't fall apart now._ "They're in the garbage. There was—" She swallowed and shifted her gaze away from Hobbs. Elizabeth pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway, water running down her shirt and neck in rivulets. "They didn't clean the carpets."

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about. _The blood._ He hadn't paid much attention to it himself. Once you saw enough of it, grew desensitised to it, red became just another colour in the room. That Luke could look at a crime scene and not flinch said more about him and the issues that arose from his work as a federal agent, he supposed, than it did anyone who wasn't a fed.

The haunted look in Shaw's eyes was what did him in. Elizabeth glanced at him one last time before disappearing out into the hallway, dripping water with every step. Luke shook his head and shoved the towel back in the closet. He heard the clink of mugs in the kitchen and would've left her to it if not for what she'd said. Hobbs fetched her shoes from the trash can, wiped them clean, and left them by the shower cubicle.

"I thought I was past this," she muttered to herself, not looking up from the electric kettle. _Guess that's what the doc meant by a 'trigger'._ Using a bread knife from the cutlery drawer, she cracked open a tin of instant coffee and measured out a heap of grounds with the blade. Hot cocoa and sugar quickly followed it. A creak came from the hallway so Elizabeth asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black and bitter."

"Uh-huh." Elizabeth fetched a large mug from the cupboard and slid it across the countertop. "You can make your own," she said, proceeding to read the large black writing on the side of it aloud, "_Finest ass in America._"

"Is that sarcasm or are you trying to be nice to me?"

The printed design on her own was a smattering of love hearts that surrounded the words 'I love my valentine'. Once the kettle clicked off, she filled her mug two thirds of the way, added milk and zapped it in the microwave. "Don't flatter yourself."

Hobbs did indeed make his own and sat at the table in the centre of the kitchen. Shaw sat herself at the opposite end, stirring her mocha idly. Not a word was said between them till Luke fetched a plate from the fridge, microwaved it, and set it down on the table. On it were two croissants. "Pastry for _my valentine_?"

"Sure." She leaned across the table and took both, much to Luke's annoyance. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. Elizabeth took a large bite out of one and set the other atop her mug. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that rude of me?"

"I'd say a little. Yeah."

"Well so is walking into a bathroom without knocking when a woman's showering. Clearly for all the diplomatic security training they had you do, learning manners was never a part of it."

"Y'know, I don't know how any of the lovely ladies at that brothel put up with such a crass, uncouth woman like yourself."

She finished her mocha in silence, glaring at him over the top of her mug. Elizabeth washed and dried it, returned it to the cupboard and walked out of the mezzanine. As she descended the stairs, a thunderous roar came from overhead and the building began to shake. "What the hell is—"

Hobbs came flying out of the kitchen and rushed past her. "That'll be the rest of the cars."

_And my wardrobe._ Elizabeth took the stairs two at a time, clinging to the railing as she went. Once her feet touched the concrete floor, she sprinted across the warehouse, dodging Hobbs on her way to the hydraulic lift. _The Marussias too. Finally!_


	17. Chapter 17

After returning to the warehouse, Deckard parked the McLaren close to the southwest corner, a good distance from where Toretto's Charger would be. Deckard stepped from it, shut the door behind him and casually strolled across the floor towards where Owen sat.

Three desks were set up in a triangle formation with one chair and computer per side; the monitors were excessively wide for reasons that became clear once Deckard saw what was onscreen. Schematics for a custom car. Of all his brother's ideas, this had to be the foremost self-indulgent waste of time. "Still working on it?"

"Yes." Little Nobody had arranged for him to take receipt of a retired Formula One car. Owen would proceed to strip it and adjust the seating for himself. The armour plates would then be modified and attached, not to mention the ramp mechanism itself required fabrication and installation. The pneumatics were the only thing he couldn't build; they'd be shipped within the week once he placed his order.

"You seen Beth?"

Did it look as if Owen was concerning himself with their sister's current whereabouts? He saved the schematic again, sent a copy to the upstairs printer and closed the program window. Besides the glass-walled meeting room, there was an office in the western mezzanine containing an industrial printer. If his instincts were correct, he'd also find a concealed biometric scanner somewhere which would lead to the facility's security hub. "No. I'm busy. What is it?"

"Toretto got into the plane."

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "Good for them."

"And you've been here alone the entire time." Deckard frowned and scratched his jaw where stubble was beginning to grow. It all seemed too simple. Owen being left to his own devices, allowed to play out his little fantasies, while they did the hard work and Elizabeth put herself in an early grave. Neither Hobbs, Reisner or anyone else had approached Owen in an attempt to encourage him to work with the team. Beyond his few 'conversations' with Letty — and his scheming with Beth — Owen hadn't interacted with the group at all.

That was how he wanted to look at things? Owen wasn't here to play games or feed Deckard's old paranoia. Their enemies were dead for the most part and he had no reason to think they'd suddenly rise from the grave. "Where exactly are you going with this?"

Deckard fetched an empty stool and seated himself next to Owen. He then turned Owen's office chair around so they were at eye level. "I put it all on the line for you. Killed eighteen men because they stood between me and you in that hospital bed. Destroyed half a cell block to get you out of that prison."

"And you'd do it all again because that's the kind of brother you are." Owen gave the faintest smile in response. The loyalty and brutality he inspired in his siblings was somewhat of a fascination of his. He was still yet to figure out why they chose to go to such extents for him, but Owen wasn't about to complain. Sometimes he even enjoyed putting himself in situations where Deckard was forced to choose between morals, ethics and him.

There was no end to the lengths Deckard would go to for Owen. If it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in anyone who stepped between them. Blood and family mattered more than paperwork or spoken words. It went above and beyond duty of care, regardless of how many times Owen proved to be the one intentionally finding trouble.

"Exactly." Deckard had found himself slowly putting the pieces together while watching his siblings. He couldn't say with complete certainty that he knew what their plan was but Deckard had a fair idea. "So I'm going to let Toretto do his job, you play your little game, and we all disappear the moment Cipher's dead."

It was good to know Deckard had finally gotten with the program, or seemed to have. Owen inclined his head in a slight nod then reached for his glass of iced coffee. The first indication that something was wrong was a ripple disturbing the surface of his drink, then the building began to shudder. Overhead came the sound of a plane, growing rapidly from a dull drone to a loud roar, as if it were moments from landing.

A sudden flash of movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention: Owen looked down the aisle to see Hobbs moving towards the lift, and behind him their sister, sprinting like Koschei the Deathless were snapping at her heels. Deckard's head turned also, lips curving down into a disapproving frown.

"Keep an eye on him, will you?" Owen said. If Deckard was going to stand idle and feign ignorance of what they were up to, the least he could do was be useful. "He's playing the long game and I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

"You don't need to worry about Hobbs."

"What about you, then?" Deckard's history with the Fed was an issue Owen couldn't risk neglecting. It wasn't his imagination that they'd moved from trying to bury each other to simply pissing the other off. Owen supposed that was what happened when your enemy helped to save your sister. "I thought we'd stopped lying to each other."

Deckard scowled and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Owen had him exactly where he wanted him: between their family and the people who'd harmed them. It was where Deckard almost always inevitably found himself. He'd taken the belt for Owen, finished his fights and settled scores. What more did his little brother want?

"I told you I'll handle him."

Of course he would, just like he handled everything. Owen scoffed and stood, sculled the rest of his coffee and tossed the styrofoam cup into the nearest trash can. "By doing what needs to be done or by appeasing your morals?"

"This isn't Kandahar, Owen." What he was suggesting wasn't impossible, but neither was it something Deckard might willingly do. The moment Hobbs disappeared, every set of eyes would be on them. Killing a civilian like Toretto was one thing, killing a U.S federal agent another. "You want Hobbs dead? Do it yourself."

They sat in silence for a minute, Owen staring at Deckard and him staring right back.

"Who said anything about killing him?" Owen finally said, breaking the tension. He raised an eyebrow as if concerned. Deckard sure did have some interesting ideas about how to handle people, even if there was kilometres of desert outside, stretching away in every direction. That kind of place sounded as good as any for a cemetery. "I suppose accidents do happen all the time though."

For God's sake. Deckard seized Owen by the bicep and pulled him close, fingers digging in as his grip tightened. Perhaps an accident did need to happen — one that would knock some sense into his brother's head. "The only reason I dragged you out of that prison was for Mum. Don't make me regret it."

Owen shrugged and pulled his arm free. "I would've broken out eventually, but thanks for the help."

"You were ejected from a moving plane. Comatose for months." If he needed a reminder of everything that happened, Deckard would happily provide it. He circled around Owen and blocked his path, lingered there for long enough that Deckard thought Owen would shove him out of the way sooner or later. "Sure, you would've broken out. Eventually. Assuming you survived Gen Pop."

"Have you said your piece yet?" As amusing as this was, Owen was bored now. He moved past Deckard and began walking towards the lift, a slow strolling pace that said he was in no hurry to go anywhere. The plane would take a while to offload so getting ahold of his car could wait. Other things, like locating the hole in Nobody's security, were the more pressing matter right now.

"We have a deal, Shaw."

Hobbs' voice carried from outside as he reached the hydraulic lift. The wide doorway through which the cars would be driven was open, and now the plane's engines were off, external noise was clear as day. Owen pressed the 'up' button and listened intently, standing in the shadow cast by the C-130 Hercules.

"I'm here. If that's not good enough for you, I don't care. I'm done for the day."

She sounded exasperated. Annoyed. Clearly Hobbs hadn't learned from the last time he'd pushed her buttons. Whatever had happened between them, it was enough for cracks to show in Elizabeth's facade.

"You have a job, so turn around and—"

"I said I'm _done_!"

A car door was slammed shut. Owen craned his neck as if to look but all he could see was the soles of Hobbs' boots. The lift took a good minute and a half to go from the warehouse floor to ground level. The hydraulics were slow but powerful and gave him time to listen further without detection.

"I'll be here tomorrow morning, bright and early, alright?" Elizabeth said. "In the meantime, all complaints can be lodged by shoving them up your arse."

Once the gap between the lift and the outside was closed, Owen walked towards the Marussia B2. Elizabeth sat in the driver's seat, fists clenched around the steering wheel, while the Fed stood at door's length from the SUV, out of striking range. _Interesting._ "Is there a problem, Hobbs?"

"Go back to your computer, Scarface," Luke snapped. He wasn't going to tolerate anymore of their bullshit, no matter who it came from. The clock hadn't even struck midday and here Elizabeth was shirking her duties already despite how much work there was to be done. "The adults are having a conversation."

"A conversation which involves you harassing my sister.

"Fuck off, Owen!" She didn't need him or his inflated sense of self worth coming to the rescue, let alone Hobbs' determination to see the job done dragging her back into the warehouse. What she needed was some breathing space and time to clear her head. Better yet, an open gate and directions back to Los Angeles. The more distance she put between them, the better.

Owen looked at Beth as if stunned. There was a bite of anger in her voice, frustration in her eyes. She and Hobbs had come from the same section of the warehouse, and here they were again, together . . . If she'd already talked her way into Hobbs' pants, he needed to know. The decision was a little premature in Owen's opinion but he couldn't blame her for getting it over and done with. Hobbs was about as useful as any two-bit government hack could be said to be.

In the seconds it took Elizabeth to start the car, put the stick in drive and pull away, Hobbs closed the gap and climbed onto the metal step, gripping the roof rack with both hands. The SUV gained speed once she reached the road and followed it northeast towards the motel, leaving Owen to stand there and gawk. The entire time, Luke fought to maintain his balance, wondering if she was going to suddenly swerve the car to shake him off.

She didn't.

Neither did the speedometer rise above forty as she drove. Shaw never glanced back at him but Luke was certain she had to have seen him in the side mirror. It wasn't easy to miss a tall muscled brown man clinging to your car, nor was he in a position to conceal his presence. The streets to either side of them went unnoticed while Luke concentrated on keeping a tight grip. His palms were sweaty, arms and legs beginning to ache after the first few minutes.

Finally, the SUV slowed upon reaching the motel parking lot, presumably so Shaw could read the numbers on the doors. A few feet from the end of the bitumen, she parked parallel to her room. Luke stepped off the car, landing on the ground with a thud. He rolled his shoulders, easing the kinks from his hands and arms.

"Alright, woman," Hobbs began when the driver's door was pushed open, "you want to tell me just what the hell that was?"

Hattie, he understood. She was Miss Independent, the lone wolf more than willing to do whatever was necessary, including putting her head on the chopping block. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was his worst nightmare. She had a violent streak, a certain way with words, and a penchant for causing him problems. Worst of all, she was a survivor fighting tooth and nail to stay alive.

For him, that spelled trouble with a capital T.

Elizabeth climbed out of the car, walked around to the passenger side door and eased it open. On the seat were three cardboard boxes. They contained her personal belongings, taken from the apartment in Santa Clara. Beth had torn off the tape after receiving them from one of the airmen, checked their contents matched the list on the manifest, and dumped them in her car.

"Do you not understand the concept of personal boundaries?" she said, hefting the boxes off the seat. "Or is your ego just so big that you can't see past it?"

There was a difference between personal boundaries and not wanting to do your job, and his ego wasn't that big. "There's seven hours of daylight left. When we're working, we're _all_ working. You don't get to walk off the job because—"

"Maybe you haven't noticed but I don't answer to you, my brothers, or your shady boss in that piss poor excuse of a suit. I certainly don't need to explain myself either."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course she didn't. What kind of Shaw would she be if she did? "You and Hattie must be a whole lot of fun at parties."

"Something like that." She circled around the car and approached the motel room, juggling the boxes to free her left hand. Elizabeth lifted her knee, rested her chin atop them and twisted the doorknob. The room would be unlocked, she reminded herself, and the keys inside on the table. At least that's what Owen had told her.

"Is this about what you said in the kitchen?"

She'd said what she needed to to get him off her back. Bile crept up her throat at the thought of repeating that incident, stinging it as if her stomach were ready to go through the whole process again. "I'm done, Fed."

This was Hattie's 'it's not over till I say it's over' thing all over again, wasn't it? God help him, Luke couldn't decide which sibling was worse to deal with. He ran a hand back over his scalp and leaned against the SUV, crossing his arms in an attempt to get comfortable. Luke watched in silence as Shaw maneuvered her way into the motel room — the room directly next to his, he noted — and set the boxes down to the immediate left of the door.

"You don't snore, do you?"

Elizabeth frowned and turned around to look at him. "Why?"

"Because that," Luke gestured at the door to her right, "is my room."

According to Dom, the walls weren't quite thin enough to hear Roman singing in the shower, but they knew something was going on. If Shaw was smart — and he didn't doubt she was — then all her private meetings with Owen would take place elsewhere. The only noise he'd be likely to hear coming from her side of the wall was her in the kitchen or moving things around in search of a landline.

"Your room." She feigned shock and surprise. That was the entire point of her being in _this_ room. Despite how maddening Hobbs was proving to be, she herself still had that other job to do. One she wasn't quite sure she could even do.

"Uh-huh."

"Lucky me."

Elizabeth kicked her motel room door closed, shut the curtains and flopped down on the bed. She dangled her feet off the edge, tried to shake loose the few small pieces of gravel that were still stuck between her toes. She tugged her hair free then rolled onto her back, staring up at the plain cream ceiling. A fan was mounted in the middle of it, directly over the bed. If she folded up all the sheets and blankets, stacked them on the pillows and balanced herself, would she be able to reach it?

Better yet, when had they last aired the rooms out? Elizabeth crinkled her nose and sat up, pulling herself to the edge of the bed. The sheets felt clean enough but there was a stale smell to the place. All electronics bar the fridge and microwave had been stripped — no radio, no TV, not so much as a portable DVD player. Was it just her room they'd stripped? Without a signal, there was little use for a TV in the first place, but its presence was what counted.

"This is going to be fun," she muttered, getting to her feet. Beth walked into the bathroom and cracked the window open, peering out to find a small garden bed and a gap of less than four feet between the window and the ground. This would be her escape route.

She opened the kitchen window as well, shoved the curtains aside to allow the not-quite-midday sun to pour in. It was better than nothing, she thought. Better than a prison cell or the storage room Hobbs had thrown her in.

"Thanks a lot," Elizabeth muttered upon finding the fridge to be stocked with only the bare minimum. "Cheap bastards."

_I guess this is home now._ As empty as it was, no one could say she wasn't used to worse conditions. Now she could cool off, get her head in the game. She was too rattled to function and it was only making things worse. The plane's interior—

Beth shuddered, forcing the image from her mind. She didn't need to think about that right now, but tomorrow . . . Tomorrow, she decided, she'd fumble her way around an apology. Presently, she was still too close to the edge. All it would take was one push, whether from Hobbs or her brothers or Letty, and she'd wind up doing or saying something she regretted.

Something she'd never be able to take back.


	18. Chapter 18

It was still dark when Elizabeth stepped outside. The moon was visible to the west while the sun began its slow crawl above the horizon in the east. The alarm clock on her bedside drawer had read 05:02 by the time she found her joggers. She'd planned to be on the track by 04:50 but it'd taken Elizabeth a couple minutes to fully awaken and a few after that to find her workout clothes.

There was nothing to be heard outside except for the distant sound of birds. No trucks, cars or planes, nor voices — the facility was eerily peaceful. Toretto and the others were likely asleep in their own rooms, she figured, or at the warehouse on cots. Whatever their location, Elizabeth was grateful for the chance to walk around without interruption.

She took to the track at a slow pace, warming her legs up and shaking off the lingering tiredness that made her want to crawl back into bed. The footpath itself began at her end of the parking lot and continued north, away from the motel, then split off in every direction. Mapping the facility in her head would take time, but it was something Elizabeth didn't mind doing it if it meant escaping the confines of her room and the warehouse.

After a few minutes, she pushed herself into a jog. Hugging the left side of the path, Beth stared out at her surroundings and let her mind wander. Call it meditation or relaxation but there was something about running that put her at ease. The rhythmic movement of _left, right, left, right_ held an allure that couldn't be found by sitting on a yoga mat in a humid room with sweaty hipsters.

She followed the path as it curved past empty buildings and wound its way beneath the few trees that were scattered across the facility, the cool desert air tickling the back of her neck. The wind sent shivers down her spine with each brief gust, blew her fringe forward into her eyes. Every time, she reached up and pushed it back.

"You're up early."

His voice went unnoticed at first. The past seventy-two hours were playing over in her head. Smiling at the woman who'd shot Riley with a harpoon, the image of Owen dying on a runway pushing itself to the front of her mind as she forced herself to sit there and play nice with Toretto; throwing her ethics out the window to appease the Fed so he'd get off her case.

_Consider it a necessary evil,_ she told herself. _Do what you have to do and get the job done._

"Scoping the place out, Shaw?"

For a moment, her step faltered and she tipped sideways. Elizabeth managed to recover her balance and steady herself by grabbing ahold of the nearest tree branch even as it threatened to break under her weight. By now, she knew that voice as well as any. Elizabeth turned around to face Hobbs, reclined on a seat with a towel in his lap, arms propped up on the back of the bench. _So much for being alone._ "What does it look like?"

Luke tilted his head, watching her watch him. He'd almost thought she would tell him to put a shirt on, or cover up in some way or another. Shaw was certainly being given more than an eyeful of bare chest but her eyes never wandered below his nose, and Luke returned the courtesy. Elizabeth wore nothing more than a sports bra and a pair of shorts; every scar on her body was on full display including one that ran jaggedly across her abdomen like a very real very permanent reminder of her past. "You always run in the mornings?"

"Yeah." She adjusted her stance and began jogging again, leaving Hobbs behind. The last person she wanted to see this early was him. Elizabeth still had an entire day ahead of her, nineteen more hours during which Hobbs could make himself a pain in her arse. This was exactly how she didn't want to start it after their little encounter yesterday.

He pushed himself up off the seat, tossed his towel around his neck and broke into a jog to catch up. Eventually Luke found himself matching her stride for stride, their feet pounding the pavement in sync as if in bootcamp. Eyes forward, Shaw didn't so much as look at him but Luke got the feeling she was aware he was behind her. It wasn't easy to miss a six-foot-four two hundred and forty-something pound brown man being on your tail.

_Time to pick the pace up._ Elizabeth pushed herself into a run after a minute of Hobbs being beside her. The path forked up ahead, splitting east and west, and forked again further along, but two branches still curved back towards the motel. She'd hoped to spend at least half an hour out here, alternating between jogging and walking, with short bursts of sprinting intermixed. Now she just wanted to get under a hot shower, crawl into bed and avoid the team for another hour or three.

He lagged behind for a minute before closing the distance, running parallel with Elizabeth, elbows tight against his sides. Luke picked up the pace again, got ahead of her by a couple feet. Sure enough, Shaw caught up and kept up, lips pursed and fists clenched. They followed the path like that for ten minutes, him increasing the speed and her not hesitating to match it.

"You're competitive." It wasn't a question. Luke didn't look at her when he spoke, too focused on the ground beneath his feet. "Feel like kicking it up a notch?"

Why not? Her lungs were already starting to burn and the motel was less than three hundred metres away. Hobbs' sprint was sudden, a burst of speed she didn't expect from someone his size. Ten quid said he'd been involved with college football or track. Elizabeth launched off her right foot and gave chase, dodging to his left when Hobbs suddenly tried to block her. The grass on either side of the path was half-dead, wilted brown at the tips and green beneath, but she'd still have a decent foothold.

"Think you can—"

She hit the grass, moving as fast as her legs allowed, getting ahead of Hobbs with each second that passed. Her entire body ached as Beth sprinted, his loud footsteps like a ticking clock that chased her. Without the sun, she had no way of knowing how close he was, not that it mattered. His footsteps seemed to slow as the motel came into view. Elizabeth did the same only once she neared their building, collapsing against the exterior wall. Gasping for air, Elizabeth doubled over, panting and clutching at her sides.

Hands on the back of his head and fingers interlaced, Luke strolled towards her, catching his breath. _Shit._ The woman could run alright. And unlike him, she wasn't carrying around an extra hundred pounds. "If you'd pulled that four years ago—"

Hadn't he paid attention yesterday? Or had Hobbs been too busy to notice her reaching the lift before him? She lowered herself down to the ground, slumping back, upper body heaving with each breath. Her heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding, beating much faster than its usual rhythm. Face flushed with heat, sweat ran down her nose and dripped onto her lips. Each twitch and spasm of her leg muscles made her relax, a feeling of contentment washing over her. She hadn't run like that in a long time but her body remembered the ecstasy of it. The elation that came with bringing herself to her body's breaking point and then pushing that point a little further away each time.

"I run better on grass," Elizabeth said finally. She opened her eyes to stare past him, stretched her legs and yawned. "You wouldn't have caught me if they hadn't—"

Surrounded you? Luke thought. She hadn't put up as much of a fight as his targets usually did, but learning Shaw walked out of prison after only eighteen months had made him wonder if getting caught wasn't a strategic move.

"—altered the escape route."

"Huh." That made sense. He'd always questioned why she ended up in that closet. Luke extended his hand toward her but she shook her head so he dropped it, shifted his weight to his other foot and rested his hands on his hips. "So what's your poison? Protein shake or water?"

"A hot shower." Once the stitches in her sides eased, she dug her fingers into the gaps between the bricks and pulled herself up, legs wobbling beneath her. Elizabeth firmed her stance, pressing her feet against the ground, forcing her legs to straighten. They still trembled slightly but at no point did Hobbs try and help her. Clearly he'd learned something overnight. "Then breakfast."

"Of course." Luke pushed his door open after they both took the corner, watched her stagger past. She looked how he felt — exhausted. His calves ached from the effort of maintaining a sudden sprint but Hobbs showed no sign that he was anything other than perfectly fine. He gave a smile and a nod as Elizabeth pulled herself up the front steps of her room. "I'll catch your ass tomorrow, Shaw."

_Good luck with that, Fed._ Elizabeth shouldered her way inside her motel room and went straight to her bathroom. Hobbs wouldn't so much as see her tomorrow if she had her way. If she had to get up earlier, change her routine every morning, Beth would. Working out with Deckard or Owen was something she'd considered too, regardless of how annoying it would be to hear their voices at four o'clock in the morning.

* * *

The door of her Porsche was open, Letty noticed, when she returned from the kitchenette. A pair of legs dangled from the front seat. Once she drew closer, Letty saw the familiar figures of two women squashed into the car. "Hey, breakfast's here!"

"Thank you!" Ramsey groaned and pushed herself up on her arms, craning her neck to look out the window. Letty was carrying a thermos in one hand and mugs in the other. "Mm, did you bring any actual food or just the coffee?"

"Relax, Ramsey, I got you." Hanging from Letty's right arm was a plastic bag containing two plates wrapped in aluminium foil. "Dom cooked pancakes and I brought the maple syrup."

Ramsey grinned and climbed out of the car. She took the mugs from Letty, setting them down on the hood of the Porsche. Ramsey had been eagerly awaiting her morning dose of caffeine and here it was. "If Dom cooks like this every morning, I'm gonna put on a few kilos."

"You and me both," Letty chuckled. In her case, it'd be more than just a few. "What about you, Shaw? You want any—"

"I'm good," Elizabeth replied, her words garbled as she tried to talk around a set of pliers wedged between her teeth. "I already ate."

"Say again?"

She spat the pliers out onto her chest, let them fall to the side as she maneuvered her way towards the open door. Half-seated in the footwell, Elizabeth grabbed ahold of the frame and pulled herself up onto the bottom of the doorway. "I had breakfast two hours ago. I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright."

"So your GPS is wired in now." She got to her feet, turned around and pulled the passenger's seat back into its normal position. Elizabeth stretched, gestured to the device that sat stop Letty's dash and stepped away from the car "Ramsey just has to sync it."

"Okay." As amusing as it'd been listening to Ramsey and Elizabeth complain about frayed wires, the age of the Porsche and the car itself — an armoured SUV would be _so_ much better, Beth insisted — Letty just wanted to take it for a spin on the runway. Open roads and empty heads and all that. "Thanks."

She shrugged in response and circled around the car to fetch the toolkit from the driver's seat. Letty hadn't said a word about yesterday so far, it seemed; so long as she continued avoiding the subject, Elizabeth wouldn't have a problem doing those odd jobs for her. After grabbing the pliers from the footwell, Elizabeth took the kit, returned it to its assigned shelf and herself to her workbench.

"Jesus," Ramsey huffed as Letty fumbled with the thermos, "how long does it take you to pour coffee?"

"About as long as it takes you to roll one on Tej."

Lips pursed, Ramsey struggled to keep a straight face, but within moments she'd cracked a smile. Thank God Letty hadn't doled out the caffeine yet or Ramsey would've spilt it everywhere. "Not long at all, actually."

"The time it takes? Or his—" Letty lifted her eyebrows "—you know?"

"Why do you want to know?" Ramsey snatched the thermos and unscrewed the lid; she depressed the button then filled their mugs to the brim. "Looking to trade up from Dom, are we?"

"Dom is . . ." Letty made a so-so gesture and took a sip from her coffee. If Mia were here, Letty thought, she would've died from embarrassment already. The last thing any sister wanted to hear was someone talking about the size of her brother's junk or his skills in the bedroom.

She held her hand up as if to stop Letty in her tracks. "On second thought, I don't want that image seared into my brain, or in my brain at all."

"Right," Letty said. She unwrapped their plates and slid one towards Ramsey then gestured with her fork in the general direction of the gym where Tej and Roman were goofing around with kickboxing pads. "But you like that one."

Ramsey ducked her head and smiled at her stack of pancakes. "Yes, I do. I think after this, he's going to ask me to move in with him."

"Really?"

"I'm not certain but we were talking about it last month."

"That's good." Ramsey deserved to have some happiness in her life. They all did. "It means things are getting serious."

"I hope so." There was a hint of longing in Ramsey's voice. She cast a wary glance over the Porsche and rolled her eyes before returning her attention to her food. But none of it would mean a thing if something went wrong while they were chasing Cipher, she reminded herself. "I—"

The unmistakable sound of metal screeching came from behind them. Letty turned around just in time to watch a raised Formula One car slip off its jack and come crashing down with a loud _bang_. As far as she knew, no one was working on it. Letty hadn't seen any indication that anyone on their two-thirds of the team had taken possession of it. She could only assume it belonged to one of the Shaws.

What happened next confirmed Letty's suspicions. A bar loaded with weights was thrown aside, hitting the concrete floor as Deckard reacted immediately. Hands free, he hurled himself off the bench and rushed for the car just as Elizabeth did the same, kicking her desk chair out of the way then sprinting across the warehouse floor.

"Owen!" Deckard propelled himself over the hood of Dom's Charger, rushing around the Zhiguli and Lamborghini to where Owen's vehicle had fallen. He dropped to his knees out of sight while Elizabeth dodged around the cars, weaving her way towards him. "Wh—"

Deckard stood and caught his sister by the waist just as she said, "Move!"

He stood firm, stopping Elizabeth from going any further. "He's not under it!"

"He was there two minutes ago!"

"Bee, he's _fine._"

"I . . . Chort," she cursed. "Why the hell wasn't the car secured properly?"

"You can ask him that yourself when he crawls out of his hole," Deckard said. Elizabeth looked visibly shaken to Letty and it wasn't hard to figure out why. In the span of a few days, she'd learned a few uncomfortable truths about her family. That was if Shaw didn't know them already. Judging from their conversation yesterday, she was still rattled by the whole 'your entire family almost died while you were in paradise' revelation. "Probably went to wash the grease off."

"Something like that." Owen wiped his hands on his pants as he descended the western stairwell. He wore an amused smile, like his siblings panicking was the funniest thing in the world. Letty hated that smile. "Why? Did you miss me?"

She shook her head in silent disgust and turned away, tuning out their ridiculous antics. Letty had had enough of that shit when she worked for him. After draining her mug, she held it out to Ramsey who promptly refilled it. "Thanks."

"You like him, don't you?" Ramsey asked after a while. By then, they'd finished their breakfast and emptied the thermos of coffee. "Owen, I mean."

"No, I don't," Letty said. She stacked the dishes in the bag and left it on the hood. Cleaning them could wait till later when she felt like walking all the way back to the kitchenette. "Trust me, Ramsey, he's not the kind of guy anyone willingly likes."

"But something _did_ happen between you two . . . I've seen the way he looks at you, Letty."

"It's in the past and that's where I plan on leaving it." Owen had been looking at her? When? Letty had done her damnedest to avoid the son of a bitch and would keep on going out of her way to do so. "I was a different person back then, with an entirely different life."

Maybe it was for her, but it wasn't the past for him, Letty reminded herself. If Ramsey wasn't digging for answers and meant what she said, it sounded like Letty's fist was going to be having its own conversation with Owen Shaw's face later.

"Oh yes, oh my God, it worked!"

"What worked?" Letty called out at Beth's sudden gush of excitement.

"Hmm?" Elizabeth glanced up from the device in her hands and looked at Letty. "Uh, the calculations. So you don't get injured by shrapnel."

Yeah, because it sounded like they could really afford for the calculations to not fucking work. "Nice."

Owen was the first to hurry over to her, leaning against the workbench with both hands. He looked almost excited, or anxious: Letty wasn't sure which. "What do you mean it worked?"

"I mean it _worked_," Elizabeth said.

From where she stood, Letty couldn't see the entirety of the device Shaw was holding, but it looked a hell of a lot like what she'd installed in Letty's car. If it was one of the GPS systems then why the hell was she talking about calculations while holding something completely unrelated? Was she merely multitasking like the rest of them, Letty wondered, or was there something else going on?

Then Owen pressed further. "Are you sure?"

"I just checked it for a fourth time. Look at it and tell me what it says."

". . . Okay. What now?"

"Now you get your bloody car finished."


End file.
